


everywhere, somewhere, nowhere

by BEETLEJFU



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 1990s, Abusive Sonia Kaspbrak, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst, Angst and Humor, F/M, Georgie Denbrough Lives, IT-Runaways, Internalized Homophobia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sonia Kaspbrak Being Terrible, all the losers are bi, bisexual eddie kasprak, now that's what i call projection!, probably out of character not gonna lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21609151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BEETLEJFU/pseuds/BEETLEJFU
Summary: **on hiatus**"Did you steal money from your parents to run away?" Eddie's voice was low and cautious.Richie's face stayed stoic, but Eddie could tell he was thinking carefully about how to answer the question.- - - -Derry isn't like any other town- people go missing six times the national average. And that's just adults. kids are worse. Way worse.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Eddie Kasprak Makes a Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! okay so this is somewhat of an impromptu NANOWRIMO, and also it's become my baby.  
> Follow the official Instagram page: @beetlejfu.runaways  
> and you can listen to my official Fic playlist: https://tinyurl.com/rjwcl8n

In 1994, there were over 6,000 missing people cases and in April of that year, Richie Tozier and Eddie Kasprak would become two more open cases.  
“You know you need some kind of plan to… do that, right? And money? And a way to protect yourself? And what about… what about m- Mrs.Kasprak. Seriously, Eddie if she finds out your planning this she’ll not only flip her shit, but she’ll probably call the cops on you or lock you in the house forever like some kind of fucked up rapunzel.”  
“First of all, Rapunzel is already fucked up and second of all, Look, Richie” Eddie started, much louder than he needed to be, he corrected himself this time, talking in a whisper “Look, Richie, I didn’t say it was a good idea, I know it’s not. But if i have to stay in that place? That hell-hole with her for another 3 years…” Eddie trailed off.  
Richie’s room went silent after that, save for the anxious sound of Eddie pacing wall to wall and the music still playing through his walkman headphones. Richie stared at Eddie, who was nervously chewing on the sides of his nail beds, still pacing the room like he was trying to train for a 5k.  
“You’re fucking insane, you know that right? Actually insane…” Richie chastised.  
Eddie shook his head scrunching his face up in distaste before letting it fall again into another look of concern. Suddenly, a spark lit behind his eyes and he smiled.  
“Come with me.” Eddie offered, just a hint of desperation behind his smile, “Look, we both hate it here. It sucks. And we could go to New York or Los Angeles or i don't know, anywhere but here.” He urged, finally taking a seat next to Richie on his bed. “And also I know you told me to never read your Writing Journal thingy but-” Richie glared at him “I know! OK shitty of me yeah but you’re funny, Richie, you have talent. You deserve to be telling jokes on a stage in someplace that matters in front of people who matter!” Eddie Exclaimed.  
“I’m funny?” Richie implored, quirking an eyebrow.  
Eddie rolled his eyes, knowing he’ll never hear the end of this now. “I guess you’re funny sometimes. But that wasn’t the point.” Eddie urged, “You said it yourself it’s an insane plan to go alone, so the next logical step would be to bring someone with me and well…” Eddie gestured to himself, then to the room, “Besides Bill, who would never, never be down to run away, you’re the only friend I have.”  
Richie hated that Eddie was right. Bill was the type to stay in Derry after highschool and marry someone from the graduating class, buy a house, have a few kids, and die in Derry. Richie looked at Eddie, and could tell that he wanted to say something else, but was holding back.  
“I’m going. With or Without you.” Eddie’s voice was small, threatening to break and give way to sobs at any minute, “I can’t stay here.”  
Richie wasn’t good with emotions, or reading people or even being sensitive, which is why he so often let Trashmouth front for him, but tonight he felt different. There was something bigger in the undertones of all of this, but he felt as if he were to ask why Eddie was so desperate to run away, that Eddie would leave him completely in the dust, never speaking to him again.  
Not a lot scared Richie, but Atop the List Of Shit That Scared Richie Tozier was Eddie leaving him. The rest of the list was as follows; 5.) The goopy shit at the bottom of the Derry Quarry, 4.) Werewolves. Seriously, Fuck those guys., 3.) Clowns. Again, fuck those guys, 2.) being forgotten, and right there atop #1 was Eddie Leaving Him.  
Richie thought about his big, often empty, house sitting in the middle of a cul-de-sac that no one visited. Then he thought of how utterly forgettable he was. How sometimes the teacher would forget to say his name during roll call, how students hardly notice him unless he’s making a dumb joke to them, or become their punching bag for the period.  
The resentment for Derry grew inside Richie then, remembering all the shit that has happened to him in this town. The immense amount of hate he'd had to experience just for the rumor that he was gay. The bathroom wall graffiti reading; "RICHIE TOZIER SUCKS FLAMER COCK." For all of the inhabitants of the school to gawk at.  
The thought of a place where no one knew him was appealing. Maybe, there was a place that didn't care if you were gay, people who didn't care if you were gay. Whole towns….  
Richie had made up his mind then, he was going to run away with Eddie and leave this shit hole town in the dust. He would show the entire town of Derry that their hate hadn't made him a bad person or killed his ambition. He was going to survive if it killed him. Spite was a powerful tool and he was going to use it to his advantage.  
"ok," Richie said, his voice was unusually and uncharacteristically small "I'll come with you."  
For the next week, they had planned how it would happen. The planning stages were messy, but by Wednesday of that week, Eddie had gathered $15 of his allowance for two bus tickets from Derry to Bangor, A two-hour bus ride.  
"And make sure you bring a toothbrush, Richie we may be Runaways but we don't have to be nasty Runaways." Eddie Chided over the phone, his voice hushed so his mother couldn't hear from the living room. Richie thought that there may have been, for the first time in a long time, a hint of hope in Eddie's voice.  
"Geez ok, I got it. Neosporin, toothbrush, toothpaste, Band-Aids, mouthwash, gauze….. Anything else you want me to steal from Walgreens or are we good with that-"  
"I know your ego is still big from when I made the mistake of calling you funny but that was a god awful joke. You better be joking, Tozier." Eddie was whisper-yelling into the phone, Richie couldn't help but laugh at him.  
"Don't worry ‘bout it dear, the cops don't stand a chance against my criminal mastery," Richie said in his Old West cowboy voice.  
"And money." Eddie added "see you at 8"  
The line clicked, signaling the end of the call. Richie ran into his room, scanning for anything else he needed to store in his bag, which was stuffed into the back of his disorganized closet (yes Richie realized the irony, but this is his coming of age story goddamnit, stop recognizing the allegories!).  
Richie spotted a Thundercats! Action figure sitting on top one of his dusty, untouched shelves and smiled.  
He remembered the day that he got that action figure as clear as the moment in front of him now. It was his 11th birthday party, Eddie had gotten it for him, and seeing as Eddie, Bill, and Stan Uris were the only three people who showed up out of the entire class, it was one of the only four gifts he got. He grabbed it off the shelf, turning it around in his hands gingerly before placing it in a front pocket of his duffle bag and replacing the bag inside his closet.  
He was sure Stan Uris was just there at his party to be polite. Stan and him were friends, sure, but they were the kind of friends who only talked during recess and lunch.  
Richie's chest aches thinking of Stan. In July 1992, out of nowhere, Stan Vanished. He once heard Ben Hanscom talking to someone about how Derrys missing people cases were plentiful ("Derry isn't like any other town I've been in. People go missing six times the national average. And that's just adults. Kids are worse. Way worse"). Maybe, Richie has figured that maybe Stan had just surrendered to statistics.  
Stan was private about his home life, but what little he did let on, it sounded… horrible. The Uris house sat comfortably at the beginning of Mangrove Drive, just adjacent to Jackson and Witcham. The Uris house was big, and Not just I'm Rich big, but I'm Very Rich big.  
Donald Uris was a rabbi, and although the Jewish population was small in Derry, the community was tight and protected each other. Richie doubted that Stan was a believer, but he was forced to study the Torah every night nonetheless. Maybe, Stan just did it just to have something to latch onto, To have community.  
Sure, he had Richie and Eddie and Bill, but they were formed from desperation and helplessness, clinging to each other so that Derry couldn't rip them limb from limb. He missed Stan, they all did. He hoped somewhere, out there Stan was safe and finally happy.  
Richie saw a lot of Stan in Eddie. Both wanting to escape from their Less-than-idyllic home lives. Both perpetually lived under the thumb of their ever-present parents.


	2. Richie Tozier makes a plan

Okay, so, maybe the plan was stupid, but that’s what being a teenager is all about right? Making dumb decisions. Here's the Gist:   
Richie And Eddie’s Super Cool Plan:  
Step 1: Richie Rescues Eddie from his house on Friday  
Step 2: Take the bus from Derry to Bangor on Friday night  
Step 3: Get to LA somehow  
Step 4: Profit  
So, easy right? But why was Richie so uneasy about it? This was his best friend, who needed him to do this. Eddie wasn’t weak, in fact, he was probably the bravest person Richie knows. Richie just hoped he didn’t let Eddie down. In truth, Richie didn’t care what most people thought about him, but Eddie was one person he did care for the opinions of.   
Although the wound was healed now when the rumors of Richie being gay has first surfaced, Eddie had instinctually pulled away and although he never explicitly said it, Richie knew that in Derry, gay was to dirty as night was to dark. This separation, of course, happened wordlessly and left a bitter taste in Richie’s mouth, especially since this was the time that Richie had come to the realization that he possibly maybe might have feelings for Eddie.   
But Richie did what Richie does best and pushed his feelings down further, occasionally joking about it. Bill and Eddie didn’t seem to notice, but stan, who had become more sensitive to Richie after he had come out to the group, always furrowed his brow, a look of concern on his face as he read between the lines of his jokes. Was he really that obvious about it? Fuck.


	3. Ben Hanscom Takes A Walk

When Ben Hanscom first moved to Derry in 1988, he assumed that it must be the source of all evil. This town had seemingly taken everything, Ben lost his mom to her illness in 1986, and had been forced into living with his aunt in her house in Derry.   
Ben had learned early on that when someone dies from a fatal illness, they have a lot of pills and treatments to take daily, at least until the end. These pill bottles, still locked away inside the medicine cabinets were soon to become yet another source of pain for Ben Hanscom.   
It all started with one phone call, one of genuine concerns.   
Is Ben eating enough? We know he’s going through a lot right now. Why hasn’t Ben been feeling well recently?   
This call of concern launched a full-on witch hunt for his aunt, and when the house was searched, the men in uniform went into his mothers’ bathroom, the scent of perfume still haunted the room.   
Pills were found, words were exchanged. With that, Ben’s entire world was turned upside down. Ben had had enough. He loved his aunt, but being here in Derry was so painful. No one knew him here, and no one cared to, and every corner he turned reminded him of his mother. And in all of this taking, had only given him one inkling of hope, Bev Marsh. Bev and Ben were not friends perse, but during gym or Social studies or math when they had it, they talked. To say Ben had a crush on her was an understatement. When things got really bad, ben decided that he’d rather be on his own than see his Aunt’s heartbreak every day until he was eighteen, and he had heard that Bev had possibly gone to Florida, a place she had always wanted to visit, and a place she and her mom wanted to go to together.   
Ben was almost embarrassed to speak it aloud, but he thought it his life's mission to find Bev. He had about a million things left unsaid to her, and even if she didn’t share a single thought of him, he needed her to know that she was loved.   
Bev always hid it well, but he could tell she had deep sorrow hidden within, and it constantly threatened to tear him in two. Some days, her eyes were sullen and sunken in and her smile was missing the brightness it usually had. Ben never asked why she looked so sad or hugged her on those days, but he knew deep down that something was wrong.   
To Ben, Bev was a bright yellow hue to his stormy blue, but on those days, where her eyes were speaking something he couldn’t understand, it was as if her aura was on 20 opacity.   
Ever since Bev had left Derry, Ben has been painted in blues, and with his home life being threatened, he decided that it was time he left. He didn’t have money, and he didn’t know where Bev was and truthfully, he was terrible at geography. But he did know that if he had just one more chance to see Bev, he wouldn’t waste a second. He would tell her that she was like the sun to him, that it was safe to tell him what was wrong, and that it was okay if she didn’t love him back because even being her friend was magical to him.   
It was uncharacteristically unplanned for Ben, but on the last day of school, May 1rst, 1992 Ben Hanscom opened his front door and stepped out into the spring breeze, and began walking out of Derry, Maine.


	4. Eddie Kasprak has a hard day

So as it turns out, running away kinda gets old after a while. Like, 14 hours and about 30 minutes, to be specific. Richie had promised Eddie he’d track the time for him since he wanted to nap, and for the last 5 hours or so, Richie had been keeping track of the time. Richie had learned that 2 hours and 27 minutes was a. long. Ass. time. Especially when you’re on a bus and you’ve had to piss since Baltimore, Maryland. But Richie would not swallow his pride and admit that he had to pee, because of course, Eddie told him to go before the next bus came.   
Besides the fact that Richie was pretty sure he was going to get a kidney infection, it was kind of going according to plan? They had boarded the train to Bangor on Friday night after telling each of their parents that they were staying at the others’ house for the weekend.   
“Be home by dinner tomorrow!” Mrs. Kasprak yelled from the living room as Eddie rushed out the front door.   
“Sure thing, ma!” he called back, a look of guilt on his face as he met Richie on his porch.   
Richie flashed him a sympathetic look as the pair mounted their bikes, prepping for the short trip to the Derry bus station.   
It wasn’t all bad though, once they were out of Maine Eddie’s nerves seemed to calm, and by the time they got to Dover, New Hampshire, he seemed almost back to normal again.   
The pair had now made it to Richmond, Virginia, which was the last stop on this particular bus, early Saturday morning. Richie was the first one awake when the bus jolted to a stop, and by god was he happy to get off the bus. Not only because of his bladder situation, but Eddie insisted on sitting in the middle of the bus because, and he quotes, “If it crashes we won’t die as fast”, thanks, Eddie! Very cool factoid. This, coupled with the fact that Eddie insisted on sitting in the aisle seat made for very little legroom for Richie and the leg cramps were quick to set in.   
“Psst.. we’re here,” Richie said quietly, poking Eddie’s face.   
Eddie swatted Richie’s hand away and stood up.   
“Not a morning person? Gee your one to complain, you got like, five hours of sleep.” Richie jabbed, checking his watch for accuracy.   
“I didn’t sleep well on account of your loud breathing,” Eddie remarked sharply as Richie stood up, his joints cracking as he did so.   
“Oh, I am so sorry your majesty next time I’ll try suffocating.” Richie teased, Joining Eddie in the line to exit the bus.   
“Jesus Christ it’s early,” Eddie said, checking his watch.   
Richie checked his own watch, it was, in all honesty, not that early. It was 8:07 am, which, Richie guessed was kind of early, but then again, Eddie was the kind of person who needed to go to bed at 8:30 pm in order to wake up for first period at 8:00 am.   
As soon as Richie stepped off the bus, he felt something change. Maybe it was just the air of knowing that he was free from Derry, and essentially all responsibility, or maybe it was something he couldn’t understand yet, but whatever it was he enjoyed it.   
Eddie sighed, looking at the board where the ride times were posted.   
“The next bus comes at 11:30,” Eddie observed, “We should find food.”  
Eddie was right. Richie had just noticed it now, but he hadn’t had a meal since school lunch yesterday, and the small number of snacks Richie had packed were basically gone by the time they hit Massachusetts, and Eddie absolutely refused to share his snacks, even though they were disgustingly healthy snacks like trail mix (without MnMs.)   
“Alright,” Richie agreed, “But first.” Richie started, making a Beeline to the station bathroom “Be back soon, don't miss me too much-”   
Eddie just rolled his eyes and sneakily flipped Richie off, so only he could see the gesture.   
The Duo started off the bus station, trying to navigate their way through the new city. And honestly? Richie had no clue what he was doing or why Eddie just let him lead. He knew that Richie’s navigational skills were less than subpar.  
“Dude…” Richie could just hear the eye roll in Eddie’s voice “you suck at navigating. Let me lead.” see? Richie couldn’t even deny it.   
“Never said I was leading, but I’m glad you think that highly of me Eddie spaghetti.” Richie returned.   
“Oh god, not again with Eddie spaghetti- you know you actually have the worst nicknames? You suck at giving nicknames,” Eddie Chided. “That’d be like me calling you Dick.”   
“First of all, spaghetti man, that would be hilarious and endearing.” Richie teased.  
“Oh look-” Eddie said, stopping in his tracks, ignoring Richie’s nickname “There’s a Taco Bell right there.”   
“Ok, sure I’m up for getting E. coli on the first day on our own. At 8 am.” Richie contended.   
Eddie glared at Richie, before walking further up the street, “Ok asshole, here’s a grocery store. Good luck getting food though i have like six dollars.”  
“Eddie, darling what kind of chaperone would I be if I didn't provide for you?” Richie said in his Sitcom Dad voice, pulling a $100 bill out of his coat pocket.   
“What the fuck?!” Eddie whisper-yelled, stepping towards Richie.   
“No biggie,” Richie said casually. “My parents won’t notice it’s missing. They’ll hardly notice that I’m missing, the fools!” Richie exclaimed, raising his fist in the air triumphantly. This garnered a frown from Eddie. “Not funny. Got it. Anyway, I think I’m dying of starvation so let’s get this over with.”  
“It takes the body like three weeks to die of starvation but only three days to die without water so we should probably pick up water-” Eddie rambled.   
“Hey, Eds?” Richie jested, “Why do you say those things?”   
“I was just saying... “ Eddie pouted.   
The walk to the store was nice, the weather wasn’t scorching like it would get to be soon during the summertime, and because it was early in the day, it wasn’t too warm.   
The two walked in silence for the two or so city blocks to the store, Richie trying not to notice when Eddie’s knuckles would brush against his own.   
The automatic door to the supermarket opened with a satisfying woosh, letting a puff of cool air out into the parking lot.   
Eddie had been grocery shopping with Richie before, so he knew the drill. “Ok, Rich, stay with me. And maybe just keep your hands in your pockets and don't touch anything. I will ask them to call you to the front through the PA, don't test me, Tozier.”   
“Geez, okay mom,” Richie said, rolling his eyes in annoyance “I’ll just hold onto your arm like i hold my mom’s then,” Richie said, clinging to Eddie’s arm.   
“You’re actually insufferable,” Eddie said, smiling sarcastically.   
“Bro, you’re so mean to me,” Richie whined, snuggling closer to Eddie.   
“Ugh..” Eddie groaned, making absolutely no attempt to push Richie away.   
“Eds can i get this?” Richie said holding up a pack of Energy drinks.   
“No,” Eddie said flatly.   
“Wrong answer! I’m the one paying so if I want a six-pack of Heart attack juice, then heart attack juice I shall have!” Richie bellowed in his TV game show host Voice.   
“Ok can you shut the fuck up- we’re literally in public you’re so annoyin-”   
“You love it!” Richie said cutting Eddie off.   
“Mhm sure,” Eddie said, turning his attention back to the boxed snacks in front of him.   
“So mean,” Richie pouted.   
“This one has less 20% cholesterol now rich isn’t that swell?” Eddie remarked sarcastically, showing Richie the box of crackers.   
“Ew dude do you ever eat anything with flavor to it? Those taste like Cardboard and dog shit. I’m not paying money for those if you want them, use your riches, and by that, I mean your six dollars, to buy them.” Richie teased.   
“God they’re not that bad,” Eddie said, gingerly placing them back onto the shelf. “What snacks do you suggest buying then.”   
“Hm… Follow me.” Richie said, leading Eddie to a different part of the isle. “Voila. Welcome to the actually good snacks Eddie spaghetti.”  
“Amazing…” Eddie feigning awe.   
“I know!” Richie exclaimed excitedly.   
“Amazing how it has absolutely no nutritional value!” Eddie retorted, smiling at Richie smugly.   
“Bro you need a nap.” Richie said, faking being hurt “and also, they have Enriched bleached wheat flour and enriched always means good so checkmate, touchdown, score.” Richie said, pointing to the ingredients of the Twinkie box.   
“Oh my god, I’m going to kill you,” Eddie said, content with losing the argument.   
After contemplating if the ingredients in Doritos and pretzels were “nutritional enough to sustain them until they got to another stop”.   
“We should get pizza rolls. Those sound so good…” Richie exclaimed.   
“We need an oven to bake them in.” Eddie frowned.   
“Wh- you put pizza rolls in the oven?! Why?” Richie implored.   
“Because that’s how you make them?” Eddie responded like Richie asked what two plus two was.  
“Uh… no? You microwave them like a normal person.” Richie insisted. “Who the fuck taught you to bake your pizza rolls.”   
“My mom, fucknut.” Eddie retorted sharply.  
“Oh my god,” Richie said exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course she taught you- ok you put them in the microwave for like, a minute. Unless you’re a psychopath, which honestly Eds, sometimes I suspect you are one, with the weird-ass shit you do. Honestly.”  
“How are you going to put something in the microwave ‘for like a minute’ and think it’s done cooking, Richie?” Eddie bugged.  
“Jesus christ Eddie fine we won’t get them you’re so lame sometimes.” Richie jested, faking annoyance.   
“Oh I’m sorry for being lame- or as I like to call it, logical,” Eddie said leading the duo up to the checkout counter, setting the items on the conveyor belt, using the divider to distinguish between Richie and Eddie’s groceries and the person in front of them.   
“Hello.” The attendant said politely.   
Richie rolled his eyes as Eddie small talked with the cashier, wandering around the checkout lanes. Richie smiled as he spotted an unopened and very unattended pack of cigarettes at a Clerk’s checkout lane, before swiping them off the counter and placing them in his hoodie pocket for safekeeping.   
Now, standing back against the ticket booth of the bus stop, Richie poked Eddie's side, who in all honesty, looked about ready to cry.  
"What's up, Eds?" Richie asked cautiously.   
Eddie swatted Richie's hand away, something brooding behind the action. He sighed then shook his head, his face scrunching in a familiar way. "Should I call her?" Eddie said, almost to himself.   
"I… there's a payphone over there," Richie suggested, Eddie nodded before making his way over to the phone booth.   
Richie lagged behind him, unsure if Eddie needed comfort or to be left alone.   
Eddie sighed solemnly before putting two quarters in the machine. His hand waited over the keys for a long beat before he shook his head defeatedly and pressed the black return button, and retrieving his fifty cents. Eddie turned back to Richie.  
"I'll do it later. She's probably still asleep and I only have fifty cents." Eddie said, his voice small.   
Richie nodded, not daring to call him out on his obvious lie.   
Eddie looked down at his watch. 10:00am. Still, another hour until the bus came.   
Honestly, in Eddie's opinion, he had made a big fucking mistake. Like maybe the biggest mistake he's ever made. Running away was stupid, and running away with Richie was even worse.   
For what seemed like years, Eddie had heard this voice, faintly as though the voice of a spirit, always present but hardly noticed. The voice always asked the same question:  
Eddie, what are you looking for?  
In the years that the voice had been with him, he had begun to fear it. It stirred emotions up inside his head and chest that he had never had a response or reasoning for.   
What was he looking for?   
He contemplated that perhaps, he was looking for freedom, to control his own life. A place of belonging? Is that why he was here now? A bus station in Virginia with Richie Tozier when where he was supposed to be at home, in his room getting ready for first-period statistics?  
But deep down he knew those answers were just placebos against the real answer. He knew, on a subconscious level that he was different. He was more like Richie and Stan than he cared to admit. Sitting here on the dingiest bench Eddie had ever seen, it all became too much.   
He felt trapped between two places. He didn't want to be at home after what happened the other night, and he couldn't be anywhere else. He just wanted a safe place.   
Tears threatened to spill and Eddie pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, trying to dam the tears.  
"Hey," Richie comforted, placing a hand on Eddie's back. "Come here,"   
Richie stood up before grabbing Eddie's hand and leading him to the bus station bathroom.   
Richie may have sucked at processing his own emotions, but he wasn't going to let Eddie deal with whatever he was feeling alone.   
"Hey," Richie consoled, placing his hands on Eddie’s cheeks “Tell me.”   
“I’m just… Homesick…” Eddie said, once again making no effort to conceal the fact that he was lying.   
“Hey…. It’s okay. It’s going to be ok.” Richie whispered soothingly.  
Richie felt like his heartbeat was loud enough to fill the entire bus station bathroom.   
Eddie pressed his forehead to Richie’s gingerly. “You’re so important to me Richie.”  
“Really?”   
“Yeah,” Eddie laughed solemnly.   
Richie finally gathered himself enough to remember where they currently were and checking down at his watch sparked a small panic inside him.  
“It’s 10:50, we should probably go wait out there… Are you ok?”  
“Yeah, I will be.” Eddie nodded.


	5. Bill Denbrough gets interrogated

Bill Denbrough was pretty sure he had never felt more terrified in his entire life, and he didn’t even know why yet.   
It was Tuesday, April 17th, 1992, and Bill was currently sitting inside the Derry police station after being escorted there by his mother, Sharon, who had come into his fifth-period English class with a grim look on her face.   
“Just a few questions… help us find them….” The words swam through Bill’s head in a haze. He hadn’t even noticed Richie and Eddie were gone…. That was a lie, he had noticed, but he shoved that thought down, not allowing his mind to wander past “Richie is probably just late, he’ll come to school… He’s sick ... and it is allergy season maybe Eddie is just at home because his allergies are bad…”. Bill was rational, and the possibility that something bad had happened to Richie or Eddie or even both of them was not rational.   
Bill was sweating, probably due to the warming weather and not because he was nervous. Definitely not. Why would he be nervous? Because two of his closest friends who never missed school unless they were dying missed school, and hadn’t answered any of his calls about going to go see what was playing at the Derry theatre, could not be missing.   
Just then, as Bill almost lost himself in panicked thoughts, a Detective wearing a tan suede suit entered the small office that Bill had been ushered into upon arriving at the station an hour or so prior.   
“Hello, William, I’m Detective Creed, and I’m just going to ask you questions about your friends. Do your friends call you Bill?” The man asked in a melodic and calming tone.  
Yes, the word stuck onto Bill’s teeth like toffee before finally tumbling out “Yes, t-they do.”   
Bill felt embarrassed, he was 16 now, he should be able to say a small sentence without stuttering like he was 10 again!  
“Alright Bill,” The detective smiled, “You and Rich have been friends for a long time, haven’t you?”   
“Yes, since ki-kindergarten,” Bill said, stumbling over the word Kindergarten slightly. Words with more than three syllables always seemed to make his stutter act up, and took a lot of effort and communication between his brain and tongue, this frustrated Bill, because he wanted to sound smart and eloquent like Stanley Uris did, but he could never manage to communicate that.   
“Great. And did he ever Mention an unhappy home life, or wanting to run away?” Detective Creed inquired, his tone softening at the hard question.   
Bill’s brow furrowed at this implication. “No, His p-parents are great. Just nor-normal teenager things, I guess.”   
Creed nodded at this, jotting down notes onto a yellow notepad. “You’re doing great, son. And what about Eddie Kasprak’s home life?”   
It took everything in Bill not to laugh at this question. What about it? Between the mess of the house itself, his overbearing mother, and his father’s death when he was a child, there was a lot to unpack about his home life.   
Bill never brought it up to Eddie directly, for fear of upsetting him, but between Him, Stan and Richie, the group often worried about Eddie, and to Bill, if Eddie had run away, he didn’t blame him.   
“Uh... “ Bill started, trying to choose how he put what he was about to say carefully, knowing well that what he said may one day reach the ears of Mrs.Kasprak, “well…. E-Eddie never really liked to be home much. He prefers to be anywhere else really,” Bill said, laughing uncomfortably, “Even down by the b-barrens is more pre-preferable to his house.”   
The detective nodded, jotting more notes down as he listened intently.   
“Mrs.K is g-great….” Bill lied, trying to soften the blow of his previous statements, “But sometimes she and Eds don’t see eye-to-eye on everything. She thinks he’s s-still a little kid, y’know, Like he’s frail. He’s not frail…” Bill’s words trailed off at the end of his statement, despite believing it wholeheartedly.   
“Did he ever talk about running away?” Creed offered.   
Bill’s eyes widened with shock. He was pretty sure that if Eddie ever thought about running away Mrs.K would have a witch-hunt for whoever she thought put that idea in his head. Although, he often heard Eddie talk about his future, always prefaced with “After I leave Derry…” and Bill supposed that leaving Derry also meant leaving his mother.   
“No, not to me at least,” Bill responded, pushing the thoughts of if Eddie had ever planned running away to the side.   
“Well,” Detective Creed said, standing from his chair and extending a hand to Bill, “Thank you for your time Mr.Denbrough, we’ll make sure your friends come home safe.” Creed smiled as Bill shook his hand.   
Bill met his mother outside the office where she was waiting. He scanned the Station Lobby to see Richie’s parents were also at the station, Maggie Tozier looking small curled in Wentworth’s arms, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying.   
Across Lobby was Sonia Kasprak, who was practically trying to strangle Wentworth with her gaze, she broke her one-sided starting match with Went to turn her attention towards Bill. Her eyes were narrowed and steam was practically coming out of her ears as she looked over Bill and his mother.   
Sharon gulped slightly before making her way to Sonia’s side.   
“I can’t even imagine what you-” Sharon started, her voice calm, motherly and full of genuine concern and sympathy for Sonia.   
“No, you can’t. So don’t try.” Sonia snapped, her words obviously cutting into Sharon.  
Sharon moved back slightly, realizing her words were not wanted by Sonia. before nodding and making her way to Maggie and Wentworth.   
“Maggie,” Sharon said softly, taking Maggie’s hand in her own. “He’s ok. They both are…” Sharon eyed Sonia once again and sighed “I know they are.”   
“How can you tell?” Wentworth begged.   
“Because…” Sharon said, smiling sweetly, “I’m a mom. We know these things.”   
Maggie Tozier shifted in her seat before hugging Sharon tightly. Sharon laughed sadly before whispering to maggie, “they’ll find your boy. Sonia’s too. They went together. They’ll get home safe.”   
Sharon stood from her crouching position, wiping her eyes and smiling down again at Maggie and Wentworth.   
“You two.. If you need anything, please... Call us.”   
Wentworth smiled up at Sharon, thanking her politely.   
Bill and his mother walked out of the station into the cool spring breeze in silence and stayed that way for the better part of the drive home until Sharon broke the quiet.  
“I meant what I said, Billy.” She said, looking away from the road for a second to glance at her son. “To Maggie, They’ll get home.”   
Bill smiled solemnly, unsure if he believed what his mom was saying to him.   
~  
The next day at school was rough. Bill no longer has anyone to be with at school, and people either glared at him or flashed faux-sympathetic faces at him in the halls.   
‘Why do all of his friends keep disappearing?’ Bill heard someone whisper behind their hands. ‘...All alone now except for that weirdo homeschool kid…”   
Bill, at this point, lost it. He couldn’t handle it. His friends were gone and no one cared and he was scared and everyone knew it. Bill felt their eyes on him the whole day. If Richie was here he’d make a joke so dumb you’d have no choice but to take your attention from bill to glare at him for a few seconds, but Richie wasn’t here and it felt like no one cared except Bill and Maggie and Went Tozier.   
It felt like the entire world was shifting without Bill like the rug was pulled out from underneath him, and the rest of the world was the one ripping at the carpet.   
Between 4th and 5th periods, Bill used the phone in the office to call his mom.   
“Th-they’re guh-gone. All of them…” He sputtered, tears forming in his eyes. “Stan... Ri-Richie... Eddie all gone, mom, I can’t be here.”   
And within ten minutes, Sharon Denbrough was en route to the Derry Highschool to pick Bill up.   
“Where did they g-go? Without telling me? Why?” Bill sobbed into his mother’s shoulder, standing in his large kitchen.   
The house felt especially empty now with just bill and his mom inside, Georgie being at school still and Zack Denbrough being gone since early in the morning hours to finish some manual work around the streets of Derry.   
“They’ll come back. They’re just silly kids, Billy.” Sharon coaxed softly, cupping Bills’ face in her hands, “I don’t think Sonia is going to leave that station until they bring home those boys… I think she actually chained herself there, Billy.” She laughed, but it was not one of cruelty or malice, but of… admiration?   
Bill didn’t think his mother was capable of being cruel if she tried. When he was young and got into trouble, she always took time to explain why he was being punished, even as a young child.   
“We don’t color on walls, billy… Mommy and daddy want this house to look beautiful forever... We love your art, but keep it on paper!” She’d say, handing him a piece of construction paper.   
She kept the same grace with her youngest child as well, even when he had gone out in the rain when he wasn’t supposed to.   
“Georgie! You gave mommy a heart attack!” She chastised lightly, scooping her baby up into her arms, wrapping a towel around his soaking and shivering form.   
Bill admired his mother so much, to Bill, she was born to be a leader, a mother, a healer. She encompassed everything good in the world to him.   
Bill sniffled, hugging his mom tightly, “I hope they come back soon, mama.”   
“They will,” Sharon hummed, a small smile in her voice. “And when they come back after I give them Heck for making Sonia, Maggie, Went, your father, and I sick with worry, I’ll throw a ‘Welcome Back’ party.”   
Bill laughed but felt a sadness creep inside him. What about stan?   
Stanley Uris was someone Bill considered to be his closest friend, and when he went missing in July 1990, just days after his 15th birthday, it threatened to push Bill over the edge.   
The only people who chose to hold out hope for Stan’s return were Bill and Andrea Uris. Sometimes, Bill would see her shopping at the grocery store, her eyes sullen and solemn, her frame shrinking smaller and smaller by the day as if Stan took her life force from her when he left. And maybe he did, Bill thought.   
Over the years that stan had been missing, the Once boisterous and social couple shrunk public appearances, Rabbi Uris even stopped doing his usual emphatic lectures at the Temple. Instead, hiding away in his office, studying the Torah in solitude.   
The temple held a small remembrance vigil for Stanley on his 16th birthday, but other than that, as the years wore on, the presence (or lack thereof) of Stanley Uris became an unspoken blanket over the small Jewish community of Derry.   
Bill always felt immense guilt whenever he thought of Stan. Stan hid it well, but he was beginning to show signs of being very anxious.   
On one particularly bad night, stan had snuck through Bill’s bedroom window, his eyes already puffy from crying previously.   
“I just don’t know why I feel this way…” Stan blurted through tears, his usual mask of stoicism tossed to the side for a moment. “Sometimes I feel like I’m in a cave and all the walls are closing in while I can do absolutely nothing about it…”  
“Hey… Everyone feels this way suh-sometimes, Stan the man.” Bill spoke softly, trying to imitate his mother to the best of his ability.   
“Even you?” Stan questioned, sniffling slightly, signifying he was finished crying.   
Bill remembers laughing at this because he felt like the walls were closing in on him most of the time.   
“Yeah, even me…” Bill smiled, taking Stan’s hand in his own, “But we’ll live through it.”   
“Hey,” Sharon’s voice cut through his memories “I have to go pick up your brother from school, he has a dentist appointment, wanna come with? I have to pick up a few things, and you know how much Georgie loves to spend time with you.”   
Bill smiled fondly at the thought of his brother, before nodding in agreement.   
Bill had felt alone since Monday but knowing that his brother, who looked up to him like Bill looked up to their mother, was going to be spending time with him, made him rethink.   
Maybe Derry was worth staying in for a while.


	6. Richie Tozier spills the beans

The sun beat down against the pair as they walked along the side of the road, having long run out of sidewalk to walk on. They were in Florida now, about 30 minutes or so west of Ormond beach. Richie initially didn’t question why Eddie refused to stay in major cities for too long, but his persistence on staying out of the public eye worried him too much to push further. Smalltalk and bordem-arguing had since died off, and exhaustion was rapidly gaining on the pair,  
Here was the quite literal middle of nowhere, but Eddie seemed determined, and walked as though he had walked this place thousands of times before.   
“Hey Rich, can you stay here a second?” Eddie said, handing Richie the map he had been using to navigate, as well as his large, over packed duffle bag.  
Richie didn’t respond, just took the things from Eddie, watching in confusion as Eddie backtracked down the road, turning to face the expansive field they had been walking along.   
He looks at peace Richie observed as Eddie stared out across the flat landscaping.   
Then Eddie started screaming.   
Richie was taken aback, and just watched wide-eyed and horrified as Eddie continued screaming into the field for what felt like forever. The noise wasn’t angry, but earth-shatteringly heartbroken. Richie threw the bags down with reckless abandon, starting towards Eddie, who was now on his hands and knees on the gravel, his screams turned to loud sobbing.   
“Damnit!” Eddie exclaimed in pain, gripping his left hand in pain as Richie met his side, slumping beside him.   
“Hey…” Richie sniffled, placing his hand on Eddie’s back. “Hey, I’m here…”  
“Why…?” Eddie asked, his voice already raw from screaming. “Why are you here why did you come with me…”   
“Neither of us could stay there…” Richie said, tears gathering in his eyes.   
“What do you…” Eddie started, finally meeting Richie’s eyes.   
Richie sighed, shutting his eyes before turning his head away from Eddie, praying by some miracle he would stop himself before the words came out, or that Eddie wouldn't hear him right, and this could be forgotten.   
“I couldn’t stay there because…” Richie felt the words get trapped between Richie and Trashmouth. Between the urge to come clean and the urge to hide further. He gathered himself, making a silent wish for another ounce of bravery and honesty, two of his weakest suits. “Because I’m gay.”   
There was a long silence then, just the whispery rustling of the tall grass and the small noises of the breeze itself. Richie felt panic bubble up inside him and promptly removed his hand from its’ place on Eddie’s back.   
He hates you now, way to go! Just another way you constantly fuck up! Richie berated himself, Also who the FUCK comes out on the side of the road?! WHO DOES THAT?!  
“That’s ok Richie. Thank you for trusting me….” Eddie said, reaching for Richie’s hand, before pulling away again. “Not that one,” he chuckled, showing Richie his hand, which had gotten significantly scraped when Eddie fell to the ground. He reached for Richie’s hand with his unharmed hand, lacing their fingers together.   
“Are you ok?” Richie asked, turning once again to meet Eddie’s gaze.  
Eddie sighed, turning the question over in his mind, searching for the right way to say what he meant.   
“No… I'm not.” He replied, “I'm not but... I will be. I’ll be ok. And I'll tell you more about… that stuff later, I promise.”  
“Ok.” Richie accepted.   
“Richie,” Eddie spoke quietly, moving his hand to the back of Richie’s neck and bumping their foreheads together. “I’m so proud of you.”   
“You’re proud of me?” Richie wondered aloud, almost as if he only meant to think the words.   
“Yeah, I am,” Eddie affirmed.   
Richie smiled, recognizing a change inside Eddie that must’ve occurred while Richie wasn’t looking.  
In middle school, when rumors of Richie’s sexuality began spreading, he felt a rift began to form in the group, visibly isolating Eddie from the rest of them. It was unspoken, but for all of Eddie’s life, it was no secret that his mother was a stickler about health, and these habits had taken a toll on Eddie himself.   
When the news of the AIDs epidemic in New York broke, it was evident that Eddie had taken this news to heart. The once Openly affectionate Eddie became conservative with who he touched. Stan and Richie had tried to brush it off as Eddie not wanting to push boundaries in a small, homophobic town, but Stan and Richie knew better. This wasn’t Eddie beginning to love them less, but him beginning to fear them More.   
As news of the epidemic began fading from the public eye, Eddie seemed to return to his normal, affectionate self, but to Richie’s dismay, this only extended back to Stan and Bill (Who Eddie never really felt uncomfortable cuddling or hugging, even through this... harsh!).   
“We should start to get going again. Don’t wanna lose any more daylight.” Eddie piped up finally, standing up from the gravel, and extending his unscathed hand to Richie.   
“You’re right.” Richie took Eddie’s hand and allowed him to help him up, starting to walk along the path again, picking up their bags and the map from their resting place.   
The boys walked like this, hand in hand along the side of the road. A silence fell over the pair, but Richie didn’t feel uncomfortable, or the need to fill the silence as he usually did. He felt light and safe.   
That’s ok Richie. Eddie’s voice echoed. Not “I know.” or “I’m ok with that”, But That’s ok. Eddie accepted, by some miracle, that this was Richie’s state of being. That this was a part of him, and Eddie was ok with this.   
Here, in the middle of Nowhere, Florida, there was no mean bathroom graffiti exposing him. He wasn’t Trashmouth or Tozier, he was just a boy. A boy walking hand-in-hand with another boy., and that was ok. Who, besides the field-dwellers was around to see anyways?   
And for the first time in a while, in the muggy Florida summer air, Richie felt like he could breathe.


	7. Stan Uris Gets A Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Jeez, I'm so sorry this took so long. I actually have a lot of the fic planned out, i just lack the motivation to write it down most of the time, and school has been very time-consuming, as you can see by me uploading this at almost 3am.   
> I hope you're enjoying this so far though!  
> ALSO i wanna give a huge content warning for intrusive thoughts in this chapter, as well as suicide. stay safe, more chapters on the way.

"It doesn't make any sense" Stan signed exasperatedly, letting his head fall into his hands. The Numbers, which he had run at least 30 times already today, were not adding up.   
Stan usually liked numbers, they always made sense and stayed the same. Today, this proved to be a problem. No matter how he crunched them, they still came up short by a frustratingly small number, only $20….   
The Seashore Inn had been Stanley's whole life for the last year and a half. Stan originally stayed in the Inn out of pure desperation. But eventually, after staying there for about a month, trying to find work, the manager, Shawn, always too busy with something or other to uphold the place, offered Stan a job in the summer of 1991. Just shy of the two-year mark of his leaving Derry. Since then, Stan basically lived and breathed the Seashore.   
Stan honestly didn't mind though, it was an interesting place. The Inn was split into two buildings, each with 14 rooms to make 28 rooms in total, though the rooms had never been filled to capacity, allowing Stan to make one room, the one closest to the Check-in office his own.   
The inn was located on an off-road of the main highway but was hardly the only motel on the way, so it often got overlooked by a majority of the travelers; but that meant the Seashore got a large portion of strange and unusual tenants when the other motels in close vicinity filled up.   
Stan often got lonely, and since the only people he saw at the inn were Shawn, the cleaning staff (who he often offered to help), and then tenants, he often let the guilt of running away eat him alive.   
But there was absolutely no way that he could've stayed in Derry. Not after he basically tore his family apart with his bare hands. He didn't mean to, obviously. Of course not! He just couldn't help his ways.   
Stan liked numbers…. They didn't change.   
He still remembers all the numbers of his household. 12 stairs from the top landing to the first floor. 4 bedrooms, 1 converted into an office for his dad. 3.5 bathrooms. 2 happy parents and 1 problem child. 1 basement, 1 attic, 1 large tube TV in the living room. Stan couldn't help counting things, he just felt like if he didn't, his day wasn't complete.   
15 was the best number. 15 was halfway between 10 and 20, the perfect center. Divisible by 3 and 5, half of 30. and 15 was one of Stan's best years by far. He hit 12 home runs that baseball season, the most he had ever hit in his baseball career. Speaking of baseball, 15 was also his jersey number.   
Ironically, the very habit that tore his family apart was what made him so good at running the inn. Stan liked things to be organized, and that's exactly what his inn was going to be. The building was almost 50 years old, and when Stan arrived it was on the brink of dilapidation. But somehow through hard work and dedication, Stan was able to fix up all the rooms with paint, new beds, and new carpeting. By the time stan was done with it, the Inn looked good as new, and he wouldn’t have been able to do without his skill.   
Stan liked calling it a skill, but deep down he knew that the good that this habit caused was only a byproduct, and it was really just a mass of evil inside him masquerading as good.   
Sometimes the thoughts wouldn’t come for days, and in those blissful days where his mind was clear, Stan was able to get work done and be productive, and maybe he would even call it happy. But other days, the thoughts were like a typhoon, washing over him and threatening to fill his lungs with salty water. These thoughts felt like part of Stan but they couldn’t possibly be him. These thoughts were like an outside force pushing itself inward into Stanley’s skull. Stan thought maybe this was a curse on him. An anathema placed on him by God to force him to atone for questioning the power of God.   
“NO ONE LIKES YOU STAN!” “YOU SHOULD KILL YOURSELF!” “You know they never think about you right? They all fucking hate you for what you did.” “God hates you for what you’ve done….” “Your wrists wouldn’t stand a chance against that Boxcutter. Boxcutter boxcutter boxcutter-cutter….” These thoughts had plagued Stanley for so long, and yet every day felt like a battle between himself. Stanley Uris, if he was anything to anyone, was logical. Thoughts like these were not logical in any sense, even if they appealed to his emotions.  
In the fall of 1989 his father, Donald Uris had told him this. “You’re not thinking straight Stanley. You’re losing sight of what's important. Your grades have dropped, You don’t want to be the talk of the synagogue next month do you?” Then, slightly quieter, just low enough to let the purr of the engine drowns him out slightly, “You don’t want to be a disappointment to your mother and I, do you, Stanley?” Since then, Logical Stanley Uris turned to the Torah for guidance, but still found no response for why he felt this way. What these thoughts were. Why couldn’t he just control himself? It was his mind….  
Dissapointmentdissapointmentdissappointment.   
The thoughts hissed day and night for weeks until Stan thought his brain would melt.   
He told Bill about these thoughts, who just winced, the way a mother does when her child slips and falls, and held Stan’s hands between his own, lacing their fingers together.   
“We’ll figure it out together Stan,” Bill said comfortingly. Stans’ stomach churned as he remembered how Bills’ stutter would almost completely fade when it was just the two of them, not only showing Bill’s trust and comfort with Stan but also how much Bill considered his words in these times, choosing them carefully to weave just what Stan needed to hear. Stan thought that Bill had always wholeheartedly believed what he told him. ‘We’ll figure it out together’ was an oath that Bill had now sworn to.   
Bill had become somewhat of Stans’ confidant. Stan felt so close and comfortable with him, something that he had never felt before, but made sense, as Bill was the leader of the pack and Stanley’s oldest friend.   
Bill had only ever shown concern for Stan. Stan often thought about Bill’s face when he found out about the news of his leaving, allowing the imagery to become his own private hell and gospel truth of why he sucked and deserves to live in a shitty motel for the rest of his life.   
Stan hated the word motel, but it fit the Seashore Inn more than Inn did. He tried never to refer to the seashore as a motel, except for in his own thoughts, but he knew well enough he was just lying to himself again.   
Stan was good at telling lies. Not so much to other people-especially, not his father, but to himself, Stan was a regular prevaricator. With an image of so prim and proper, he needed to be.   
In school, he was a straight-A student and teacher’s pet. In his friend group, he was always Too Proper to play in the barrens, always standing on dry land with Eddie, watching Richie and Bill poke around the murky water with damp sticks. At home, he was the Model child, always in his room studying, or helping his mother with cooking or in his father's office, studying the Torah under a watchful eye.   
But Stan knew well enough that a liar was all he was. In his room, late at night after his parents had long retired to bed, he let himself be him. Sometimes Being Him implied crying in bed for three hours until he thought his lungs were going to collapse, but other times Being Him was easy. Being Him meant listening to a mixtape he swore to Richie he “was never going to listen to, Tozier”, or reading an ornithology book he had gotten from Bill. Being Him meant trying on the sweaters and graphic tees he deemed too juvenile to wear in public and reading his moms’ dumb cosmopolitan magazines.  
Maybe Stan couldn’t control his thoughts or where he lived or what he did or what hobbies he was allowed to have, but he could control Him, and for a while, he was okay with that. Allowing himself to retire from being Stanley to be Him for a few hours.  
But liars always get caught, and it's never when they expect it, or by who they expect to catch them.   
For Stan, the one to catch him, luckily and unluckily enough, was himself. One night, after methodically breaking down, Stan decided enough was enough. He couldn’t pretend forever. He needed an escape.   
So in July, he became his own escape route. He left at night, most of his closet packed away in a blue duffel bag, a note on his bed explaining what he was doing.   
“Mom and Dad,   
I am safe wherever I end up. I’ve decided to leave this town. I know you’ve done the best job you can at raising me, and I do love you, but I cannot pretend to be okay here. Every day feels like a fight between the me you’ve decided i am, and the me I truly want to be. You deserve a better son, but instead, you got me, and I will feel eternally guilty that i cannot just be the me you envision i am. This isn’t Bill’s fault, nor Richies, nor Eddie’s. They don’t know what I'm doing, or that I’m running away. I hope that you give grace to the small group of people who ever felt like home to me. I’m sorry, and I love you.   
Forever your son,   
Stan.”   
Stan was analytical, yes, but this doesn’t mean he always had the smartest ideas. Stan created a plan for escape that went as such:  
In the night, Stan will pack essentials* in a duffel bag, and board the bus to Bangor  
From Bangor, he will hitchhike to Florida, as close to Orlando as he can get.   
He will get a job and find work and begin his life as Himself.   
The essentials include things such as; Summer clothing, Winter clothing, his favorite bird-watching book from Bill, his walkman and his favorite Mixtape from Richie, something that I haven't thought of yet from Eddie, and $200 of his allowance he had been saving for the past few months.   
And with that, he left his house through his bedroom window, and never looked back. He felt guilty every day that he didn’t say goodbye to his friends, it haunted him every day. He wished he could see them again. To hear Bill and Eddie sigh at Richie’s dumb jokes once again, but he knew that wasn’t possible. He had reasons for running away, and he was sure that if he told them why he had run away, they would agree. They would take his side. Especially, Richie, he would know and agree. Derry wasn’t sustainable, that house with 12 stairs from the top landing to the first floor, 4 bedrooms, (1 converted into an office for his dad), 3.5 bathrooms. 2 happy parents and 1 problem child, 1 basement, 1 attic, and 1 large tube TV in the living room wasn’t a home for him. He had to leave that evil, oppressive town.   
Just then, as Stan thought he was going to lose himself the corridors of his own mind, he heard the bell to the front office ring. Standing from his seat, he stretched, trying to shake the thoughts from his head, composing himself before stepping out into the lobby area to attend to the newcomers.   
“What the Fuck?!” A familiarly crass voice called from the other side of the counter.   
Stan, at first thought, that he had finally gone completely insane. He thought he had lost himself to his delusions, and now was going to have to admit himself to the psych ward. “....Richie?!” Stan asked, finally allowing himself to look at the two figures standing in front of him. To Stan’s complete disbelief, it was Richie.   
“What the fuck is he doing here….” Eddie whispered to Richie, loud enough for Stan to just barely hear it. Richie shrugged and looked between Eddie and Stan.   
“I dont….” Richie started quietly before turning to Stan again, “What the fuck are you doing here?”   
“Me?” Stan asked, shock still setting in “what the fuck are you guys doing here.”   
“We came to stay here. We need a room.” Eddie replied, somewhat sheepishly.   
“Why.”  
“We may have….” Richie started, his hand gesturing vaguely, not clarifying his words at all “Y’know like ran away from home.”   
Stan closed his eyes and sighed, “Yeah I gathered as much, Trashmouth, I mean why are you… here at the Seashore.”   
“...The other motels are too expensive and also they don’t have any vacancies.” Eddie spoke candidly.   
“I have so many questions for you,” Stan said, eyes darting between the pair in an almost accusatory way.   
“Likewise?!” Richie insisted. “How much for a room for tonight?”   
Stan thought it over, running the numbers in his mind once more.   
“$20,” Stan said, smiling to himself.   
“Ok. here,” Richie said, handing over the bill.   
“You want two singles or one double?” Stan teased, leaning forward and raising his eyebrows suggestively.   
“Two singles-” The pair said in unison, stuttering over the words.   
“Damn, sorry guys looks like we only have doubles available.” Stan toyed, not moving from his position of leaning over the counter on his elbows.   
“Fine.” Richie sighed exasperatedly, eyeing in Eddie’s direction.   
Eddie glared at Stan Dead-on, with a look of what Stan could only describe as absolute hatred.   
Stan directed the duo to Room 27, handing them each a key to the door. “Lose either of these and i will charge you both an absurd amount of money just as a ‘Fuck You’.” Stan chuckled.   
“Yeah so good to see you too, Stan!” Richie exclaimed, matching Stan’s sarcastic tone.   
“Hey, never asked for you two clowns to show up at my Inn,” Stan said, unlocking the door to the room and stepping in.  
“Aw, you love us!” Eddie chortled, setting his bags down to fling his arms around Stan, “And we missed you, Stan.”  
Stan looked uncomfortable at first, scrunching his nose at Eddie’s display of affection. But then the guilt of leaving them in Derry crept back in.   
Now they’re here… so it must’ve gotten really bad. Stan thought. Besides that, and his sardonic demeanor, he did miss them. All of them.   
Stan hugged Eddie awkwardly. Stan had grown at least 6 inches taller in the time since they had last seen each other, and it seemed like Eddie hadn’t grown at all since he was 13.   
Stan was the first to let go of the hug, smiling sweetly at his friends “I did miss you guys. It gets lonely sometimes, running this place.”   
“Wait this is actually your Inn?” Eddie asked, impressed by the implication.   
“Well… kind of, My manager, Shawn, has a lot of family stuff going on, so he kinda left this place in my hands while he deals with it.”   
“Not too shabby, considering everyone in Derry thinks you’re dead.” Richie piped up from beside Stan.   
Stan shot Richie a look of anger, then softened into sorrow when he registered the word, everyone.   
“Wait what do you mean everyone- even Billy and Mom and dad?” Stan quavered.   
“I mean yeah, Stan,” Richie moved in, grabbing Stans’ hand “You left only a note… you didn’t even call us or let us know where you were going. We didn’t sleep for weeks. The entire town was looking for you. Bill was... Really torn up about it, to put it lightly.”   
Stan felt like his ribs were being kicked in.   
“Georgie still asks when you’re coming home…” Eddie whispered.  
Stan lost it, and burning hot tears slid down his cheeks. “I’m- I’m so sorry.” Stan Sobbed, hanging his head in shame.   
Richie just held stan’s hand, watching as Eddie moved by Stan’s side, rubbing his back soothingly.   
Man up! A voice echoed in Stan’s mind. Stan sighed and straightened himself up again.   
“Hey, it was great to catch up but uh… I have to get back to the office before I’m needed again.” Stan said, a slight wobble still evident in his voice. “You know where to find me.”


	8. Eddie Tells the Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha, what if.. I formatted this a bit more like the IT book with quotes in it…. Unless? TW for heavy homo/biphobia and use of the word Queer in a Slur context.

“I wanna live at the Holiday Inn where somebody else makes the bed,  
We’ll watch TV while the lights on the street put all the stars to death…”   
-Smoke Signals, Pheobe Bridgers   
~ ~  
Although exhaustion had now reached every part of his body, Eddie found it hard to sleep, It was early in the night, only around 8:30 (the analog clock above the chunky, somewhat outdated Tv ticked furiously on, only heightening Eddie’s growing anxiety and stress). Richie apparently found no issue with sleep, he fell asleep around 4 pm, just after the first hints of a sunburn on his cheeks.   
Eddie looked at him now, sleeping next to him as he sat upright. body obscured completely by the thin layers of hotel bedding, his face grimacing as though having a nightmare. He then remembered that day on the side of the road, where the landscaping seemed so desolate and free that you could say anything in the direction of the fields, and it’d be a secret. A part of Eddie thought that maybe that's why Richie had told him, why he had come out. The other parts of him knew though, that that wasn’t true.   
There was a certain power, a certain pride in his voice. A feeling that bathroom wall graffiti and schoolyard bullies were meant to squander and ruin. But they didn’t Eddie thought. At once, a much more terrifying thought came to Eddie, and he felt a chill, although the room was almost unpleasantly warm and humid.   
Richie exhaled, and to Eddie, this signaled that he needed to move. Move or succumb to his own anxious mind. The horrible thought proceeded to plague his mind, overtaking every other possible worry he had, his feet carried him swiftly to the bathroom where he shut the door as gently as possible, as not to stir Richie awake, and stared himself in the mirror.   
You need to tell him about why you did this, why you brought him why your mom- he cut himself off, trying not to stir up the memories tomorrow i will. Let him sleep… let me sleep.   
He placed his hands on his face, then rubbed his eyes, exhaling. He felt better, somewhat. The oppressive thoughts fading as he walked back to the bed, allowing himself to sit again. Then, pushing Richie further from himself, he allowed himself to lay down for the first time.   
He’s going to hate you for this, you know…. You ruined his life….. An evil part of his mind whispered to him.   
I know. Eddie’s logical side, too tired to argue, agreed.   
Sleep was fitful and dreamless, but at last, it came to him.   
\- -   
‘So unusually dark in here…’ Richie thought, his hands feeling around the dusty, linoleum floor of Freeses’. He Couldn’t see, his hands brushed under the store shelves, further and further back. ‘Hurry!!Hurry!!” a voice from the back of his mind urged him, and he knew what was happening, but each time he grabbed for his mangled glasses, they pushed further against the labyrinthine underside of the department store shelves. ‘You think there's some kind of Glasses tree we can just pluck a pair from every time you break a pair?’ his mother's voice said, like a memory being replayed.   
Then, all at once he knew why he suddenly had a sense of urgency, the heavy sound of combat boots against linoleum flooring. His heart was pounding against his chest, buh-bum  
Buh-bum  
Buh-  
~ ~ ~   
boom.  
Something thudded vaguely outside, causing Richie to stir from his sleep. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, which had inexplicably begun to sting the way they only do after a long day of swimming, or after having a horrible nightmare. Richie looked to the side table where he had haphazardly placed his glasses before falling asleep, and panicked slightly, realizing they weren't there. He snorted slightly at how ridiculous he was being as he noticed they had fallen to the floor while he slept. He picked them up, adjusting them onto his face before trying to focus on what time it was.   
The room was dark, with just a small beam of light streaming in from behind the thick curtain on the other side of the room. The yellow, hazy glow was that of a street lamp, Richie realized. Still dark, he thought to himself before rising from the bed and walking groggily to the bathroom, where he drank cupfuls of water until he felt sick. Richie heard rustling behind the closed bathroom door, and flushed with guilt, concluding he had caused Eddie to wake up.   
Walking back into the room, he realized he was right, Eddie had woken up, but he did not look like he had slept at all, to be honest.  
A low lamp was now flipped on, allowing Richie to see it was around 4 am.   
“Did I wake you up?” Richie asked, apologetically.   
“Yeah, but don't worry about it, i wasn’t sleeping very well anyway,” Eddie responded almost no hint of sleep in his voice. He wasn't lying, Richie concluded, he really couldn't sleep. The bubble of guilt dissipated.   
Richie returned to his place in the bed, feeling awkward and uncomfortable for an unknown reason. “Are you okay..?” He cautioned.   
“Can I tell you something?” His voice came out in barely above a whisper.   
Richie felt the need to match his tone, “what is it?”   
Eddie turned away from Richie, looking ahead at the wall now. “I didn’t run away.” Richie was confused, but stayed quiet, allowing Eddie to find his footing again, “She made me leave, I lied to you. I’m so sorry.”   
The room was uncomfortably silent, the clock ticking was incessant and the steady hum of the air conditioning unit rattled and wailed against the silence.  
“....made you?” Richie finally spoke up, forcing the words from his lips, as if they were the first words he had ever spoken. He spoke painfully softly, afraid to come off as anything other than how he felt, pained, sorrowful and confused.   
Eddie nodded once, letting his gaze fall downwards towards his lap, where his hands were twisting nervously.   
“I…” he started, before choking back sobs. He inhaled sharply, then let it out again, starting again, this time anxiety filled his words “I told her that I think I like boys-and she freaked out- i tried asking her about what Dad would have thought- which made her angrier, and the next thing I know, she told me that my father hated queers as much as any good Christian man should and that he would be just as disgusted and disappointed as she was now. She told me I had to take it back, and I told her I can't. She gave me a week, starting that night. That was the Friday before I told you we should run away. I thought maybe you’d say no and i could just disappear like-” -stan the word, although unspoken, hung heavily in the air.   
“Fuck.” Richie whispered. This caused Eddie to finally break. He started to sob uncontrollably now, palms pressed to his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from coming. It didn't help.   
Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shaking figure, who buried his face into Richie’s shoulder. Richie found himself crying as well.   
He was angry. He was hurt for Eddie, and yet, Underneath the rueful hatred he felt for Sonia at this moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of pride for Eddie.   
Whispers emerged from Eddie then; “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” he repeated, his voice breaking, sounding more helpless with each repetition.   
“Hey….” Richie said, gripping Eddie’s shoulders, pushing him back in order to meet his eyes, “I'm not mad at you. I’m proud of you.” And now it was Richie's turn to do the thanking; “thank you for trusting me. And thank you for giving me a reason to get out of Derry a year early. I mean it.” Richie cupped Eddie’s face in his hands, wiping a tear from his cheek. Eddie seemed more composed, calmer.  
Eddie copied Richie, placing his own hands on Richie’s face. Richie felt his body temperature rise, allowing the gravity of what was happening to sink in.   
“can i kiss you?” Eddie whispered, and at first, Richie didn't believe what he heard, but somehow, he had noticed, their faces were inches apart, so close he could feel Eddie’s breaths against the lower half of his face.   
“....yes,” Richie responded, secretly hoping this was all a stupid joke being played on him. Secretly hoping that any moment, Eddie would tear away from the situation, laughing at the stupidity Richie displayed. It had happened before, this time would be no different, or less painful.   
But it didn’t happen, and Eddie did kiss him. At first, his lips barely touched Richie’s, but slowly became more confident. It wasn’t a perfect kiss, Richie could feel his bulky glasses press against Eddie’s cheek, but he didn't seem to notice. Hesitantly, Richie kissed back, his heart working against his ribcage, fighting violently against it.   
Eddie pulled away first, his hands still holding Richie’s face. Richie let go of Eddie, placing his hands in his crossed legs.   
Eddie dropped hands too, finally breaking eye contact. He shifted, before getting up and walking to where the pair had layed their bags when they arrived.   
` He rummaged in them for a while, before finding his backpack, and unzipping the front pocket to reveal a small slip of paper.   
Eddie returned, extending the folded piece of paper to him. Richie took it, before noticing it was a photograph. The sienna ink faded in the creases of the paper, but it was still intact. It was a photo of a man, possibly in his mid-twenties or so, and a young woman next to him, smiling up at him brightly. His parents, Richie thought sadly and looked up at Eddie.   
“They always wanted to visit Florida,” Eddie started “But then they had me, and he got sick, and….”   
Eddie frowned and Richie nodded, handing the photo back to him, he folded it up and placed it on the bedside table.   
“I thought maybe if we came here… it’d make sense finally. I’d understand them better somehow. But it didn't work that way. I’m just more confused. She would always tell me stories about how he thought the beach was the most magical place to be, especially at night, where you could see a million stars. They said that if he beat his sickness they’d take me here, to Florida, the beaches. They saved money and everything for it. But you couldn't treat cancer that bad in those days, and all that money was gone when he…”   
Richie nodded. He thought back to the photo, how happy they both looked, standing against a brick house in what must have been their Sunday best.   
Eddie glanced at the clock, realizing the time had slipped from 4 to 6 am now, and flashed Richie an apologetic smile.   
“We should get some rest.” He said, walking around the other side of the bed, returning to his spot. “Stan wants to talk today, i bet.”   
“You're probably right,” Richie said. He felt like all the words had been wiped from his mind. He leaned over the table, his eyes ghosting over the photo again, before turning off the lamp. In the dying light, he saw written on the back of the photo in black in were the words; Frank and Sonia, 1968.


	9. Dark Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue what to name this chapter sorry   
> I'm hoping to update a minimum of twice monthly now, if not more.

_ “I think my life is losing momentum,  _

_ I think my ways are wearing me down _

_ I should move to a brand new city  _ _ and teach myself how to die. “ _

- _ Brand New City, Mitski  _

The Swamp cooler in Stan’s office droned loudly, intermittently letting water drip from the interior onto the sidewalk outside. Stan had told the pair to wait in the small beige room while he checked a customer out. He had been gone nearly half an hour, and Richie had noticeably become fidgety. Now, he stood prodding through the vast bookcase lining the wall behind the small, boxy mahogany desk. There must have been a hundred books set upon the shelves, half of which Richie had already picked up, fidgeted with, then put back. 

The air around their circumstances was already strange enough. What were the odds that all three of them had run away to the  _ same exact  _ town? No doubt Stan had questions, and likewise for Richie and Eddie, but Richie knew that the events that happened the night-or rather early this morning- had a lot to do with the unbroken tension in the room. Neither of them dared to talk about that though, and when Richie woke up the photograph that had laid on the nightstand was once again tucked safely away into Eddie’s bag, out of sight out of mind. Since Stanhad walked them to the small office behind the check-in desk, he had been feeling especially anxious, and now that Stan had been gone for almost 40 minutes, his anxiety was worsening. 

Desperately needing to break the silence, he pulled a book off the shelf, then turning to Eddie he pointed to the book in his hand “Gee, i knew Stan was as interesting as watching paint dry but a book on math?” 

“He really keeps books about math on there?” Eddie asked, also eager to break the silence. 

“Oh yeah. Tons of ‘em. Accounting books, Bookkeeping books… Lots of boring shit here.” Richie said, running his hand on the spines as he read them off. “Speaking of Stan, where is he? Feels like I'm rotting in here. He's the one who told us we should meet up here in the first place.”

Eddie sighed, checking his watch as Richie returned to his chair next to Eddie. “I think he’s been gone 44 minutes. What’s he doing?” Richie shrugged, slightly amused that Eddie had been counting the minutes exactly, and not rounding them. He felt less nervous now, slightly relaxed now that he and Eddie had at least talked a bit. 

The nervous energy of the room turned downright anxious as the door swung open, an impossibly hot burst of air changed the atmosphere of the already warm office. 

Stan stepped in, an unreadable look on his face, but something about him made Richie want to leave as soon as possible. 

Sure, he and Stan had been friends forever, maybe even longer than forever, but something told Richie he was in Deep shit being here now. 

He stayed seated. Stan slid into the big office chair behind the desk, still not speaking. Eddie side-eyed Richie, messing with the edges of his nails. 

Stan breathed deeply, looking into Richie’s face for the first time since they reunited. He then Looked to Eddie, who broke eye contact immediately, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. 

“Why are you here?” Stan asked, still looking at Eddie. His tone was not harsh, in fact, it was barely above a mumble, but in the quiet of the small office, his voice carried well, even despite the hum of the swamp cooler (which was not so much  _ cooling  _ as it was making the room humid, adding to Richie’s discomfort). 

Richie finally stopped staring strictly ahead, and met Stan’s eyes, before wondering if he should let Eddie speak, or lie his ass off. He chose neither. 

“Does it matter?” Eddie spoke up, the anxiety evidant in his voice. “It’s a weird coincidence.” 

“Why are  _ you  _ here?” Richie returned the question, hoping to divert Stan from Eddie. 

“I manage the place.” Stan retorted smartly, before sobering and adding “I ran away, and I just... Ended up here. It felt right to stay here, so I did. I started working here in October and worked my way up. My Boss’ wife had a baby a month ago, and she was already sick as it was, and i was well on my way to becoming assistant manager anyhow, and when she had her kid, he told me he may or may not come back, so I've been manager since then.” 

“What’d you do before then?” Eddie asked, leaning forward. 

This question seemed to anger Stan slightly. Not a classic Stan Annoyed that came after a bad joke from Richie, but a short-lived spike of rage. Eddie seemed taken aback, and leaned back in his seat, as to distance himself from Stan, But when he spoke he was normal, domineering Stanley again. “I lived in the streets for a few months. I was lucky to already be here, down south by then so I wasn't cold during the winter, but I had to steal basically all my meals..” Stan seemed to cut himself off before saying too much. 

“ _ Why _ ?” Richie asked, a hint of hurt in his voice “Why to give up your whole existence to live in the streets-” 

“I could ask you the same thing, except you never had to do any of the things I did, did you? You had each other. And your parents’ money, right? Unless I'm mistaken.”

Eddie saw Richie was angry, but he was restraining himself- Or so Eddie thought. “Yup. It sure was easy for us. Right, Ed’s? It was easy when the cops questioned you and me and Bill for months on end because they thought we killed Stan, right?” Richie was fully enraged now, his usually jubilant mannerisms gone, replaced by a seriousness Eddie (Nor Stan) had seen him portray in his life, not even after Stan left. “I’ll tell you something else, Stanley, You may have been my best friend for almost all my life, but you're a rotten excuse for a person-”

“Rich maybe you shoul-” Eddie tried to interfere 

“Should what?” Richie snapped, before turning back to Stan “You know what else? After you left you to know your parents didn’t leave the house? Even for Temple? People got so worried they thought that they had- that they got hurt. They paid neighborhood kids to buy groceries for the week. Me sometimes. Bill sometimes. Sometimes Ed Corcoran, Eddie too if he was allowed to. You’re not the only person on earth you running away from Derry affected. Bill had to constantly tell Georgie that you weren't coming home. He thought you went on Vacation or some shit-” Richie was almost gasping for air now, but he seemed less angry and more and more hurt. 

Stan breathed in, now desperately trying to keep his composure “What makes you two any better?” 

Eddie looked up at Richie, pleading with him to not say too much, but staying quiet was not Richie’s virtue in life. 

“Wanna know why we’re different?” Richie said, lowering his tone, and placing his hands on the edge of the desk. Eddie saw his Glasses were sliding off his nose, but something told Eddie Richie couldn't give less of a fuck about that now. 

“Please, do tell,” Stan said, almost egging Richie’s anger on. 

“Right. You ever been run out of town for being a queer? How about kicked out? I didn't think so. You left because you’re selfish. You couldn't handle your perfect life in Derry so you left and let the rest of us feel the fallout,” Richie stared down at Stan for a second. Stan Stood up, straightening his slightly wrinkled sweater. 

“Get out,” Stan said, his voice low but stern. Eddie wanted to run as far away as possible but something glued him to his seat. 

_ You're scared.  _

“Fine.” Richie spat, storming towards the door, Eddie finally felt unstuck, feeling the tension in the room lower, he stood. 

Richie stood by the door, his hand on the knob. Eddie gave Stan a sympathetic look.  _ I’m sorry, stan.  _ He thought, before joining Richie by the door. 

Richie opened the Privacy glass door, gesturing loosely for Eddie to go through first. He did and Richie followed, letting go of the door, allowing for it to slam against the doorframe. The old Motel’s door frame shook slightly. 

Richie sped down the covered walkways to the room, fumbling with the lock and key. 

“Here,” Eddie said, wrapping his hands around Richie’s shaking hands, taking the key from him. “Let me.” Eddie inserted the key into the lock easily, unlocking the door and pushing it in, allowing Richie into the room. 

Eddie followed, shutting the door gingerly behind him. Richie was now rifling through his bag, looking for something. Eddie just watched.

“Fucked up,” Richie Mumbled, unsure if he was talking to Eddie, himself, or no one at all. Richie seemingly found what he was looking for, then rifled through his jacket pockets, the fabric making an unpleasant swooshing noise as he did. “Aha!” He said, almost triumphantly as he pulled a lighter from his coat pocket. He then held up a small green box of cigarettes along with the lighter. Eddie felt himself frown disapprovingly. 

Richie rolled his eyes, “take a walk with me?” 

“Okay? Where?” Eddie asked, worried Richie was out of his mind. 

“Anywhere.” Richie once again opened the door, grabbing the small metal key from the side table. 

“Christ,” Eddie muttered, following Richie to god knows where. 


	10. Richie, Eddie, and the Deserted Diner.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Diner down the road holds a peculiar surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I know I updated a week ago but I am doing it again :-)  
> You guys are so sweet and it really motivates me to hear that you guys enjoy reading this fic as much as i enjoy writing it. This may not be the last update of February either if all goes according to plan. That being said, enjoy this long chapter and thank you again for all the Kudos and comments!

" _ Meet me at Blue Diner I'll take coffee and talk about Nothing, baby at Blue Diner I'll take anything you wanna give me Baby."  _

_ \- Old Friend, Mitski _

The pair had been walking in a blanket of silence for a while now. The only sound audible was the hard gravel scuffing against the rubber soles of the pairs' shoes and the tar of the road.

The area surrounding the Seashore Inn was, well not by the seashore, but rather by a whole lot of nothing. Buildings ran by the roadside every quarter of a mile, but rarely ever had a purpose. Perhaps once they had been barns or houses but now stood as ghostly white husks against the setting summer sun. 

Richie was uncharacteristically quiet on this walk, which was now lingering onto be almost 45 minutes long (Eddie was tentatively watching his wristwatch because mosquitos carry diseases, and he didn't want to be out long without bug spray). This unsettled Eddie in a way he couldn't describe. 

At first, it seemed as though Richie was jogging, trying to leave him behind, but as time passed his pace slowed, and Eddie realized this was only because of the lingering anger from the incident with Stanley in his office an hour and a half earlier. 

Richie was now almost shuffling along the road, his shoulders slumped slightly. 

Eddie geared up to ask Richie a question:

_ Where are we going? _

But rather what came out was this: “Why’d you say all that stuff to Stan?”

Richie stooped in his tracks, turning to Eddie, his converse making an unpleasant scuffing noise aginst the road gravel. 

“D’you remember the night Stan went m-  _ left _ ?” There was an assertive aggressiveness to his tone, “Remember how Sharon and Zack called me to come over because Bill was in hysterics and refused to leave his room?  _ Bill  _ like that. Have you ever seen Bill like that before or after that day?” Richie paused as if he was holding back “Stan did that to all of us for what reason…. Or remember when the police questioned us and you had an hour-long panic attack? We thought you were dying-” he laughed ruefully. “If Bill were here….” He trailed off, gesturing loosely. “I don't know how we found Stan here-or why, but you know what? I wish we didn't.” 

“He’s our friend-” 

“ _ Was. _ ” Richie corrected. 

They stood there on the road for a minute, staring at each other. Richie inhaled sharply. Eddie wondered vaguely if he was crying, but brushed the thoughts off. 

Richie dug into his coat pockets, pulling out his zippo and lighting it. 

“Hey kid, wanna smoke?” Richie said, making his Voice hoarse, a cruel impression of a long-time smokers’ voice. He then pulled out the small green packaging of the cigarettes. Eddie sighed, allowing the Stan subject to take a backburner in his mind, although he worried that when they got back to the Inn that their things would be in a crude pile in the middle of the parking lot. Eddie joined Richie in walking again. 

“Those things’ll kill'ya you know…” Eddie muttered, trying to switch subjects in his mind. 

“Here's hoping!” Richie said in a mock-chipper voice. Eddie just shook his head and frowned. “Whoa, the fuck is that?” 

Richie gestured up ahead to a clearing in the road, where a brightly-lit building stood almost alone. There was one car in the parking lot, and it was unclear if the building was residential or business. 

As the pair gained on it, it appeared to be a Diner, at least that's what the dimly-lit wood sign advertised as. It looked eerie as if something from a cheap slasher flick you could see 2-for-a-dollar at the Alladin back in Derry. Richie loved it. 

“You hungry?” Richie asked earnestly. “I don't think we’ve eaten since... Yeah, let's check it out.” 

The place was astronomically skeevie, but Richie had a point. Neither of them had eaten in what felt like forever. 

“This place looks like a health code violation in Building form, so if i get E. Coli or any other foodborne illness it’ll be your fault. But you're right. We haven’t eaten in so long.” 

Richie walked the few paces to the edge of the Diners’ parking lot, threw his cigarette butt down and snuffed it with his shoe. He picked it up again. 

“Y’know birds eat these. Toxic to their system, really fucks ‘em up. I’ll throw it away in a trashcan.” 

“Fucks up your system too,” Eddie retorted. This gained a dramatic eye-roll from Richie. 

The overhead bell chimed brightly as the pair walked into the diner. It was empty, despite the car outside, which Richie had concluded must’ve belonged to the person working. 

Despite the sketchy outside of the diner, the inside was nice. All but one of the tables was bussed, and they all looked clean. This calmed Eddie down if he was going to be murdered by a psycho who used a beat-up diner as a ruse, at least he was going to do it in a place that was up to health code. 

The pair slid into one side of the booth together, Richie being pressed against the window. The booth they sat at was not far from the door, which Eddie thought was smart in case his whole psycho-killer hypothesis was correct. Each of the tables was already set up with menus and silver-wear. 

“Should we… call for someone?” Richie whispered. 

“Uh…” 

As if on queue, a surprisingly young waitress sauntered out from the back of the diner (the pair presumed it was the kitchen she had emerged from). 

“Hello!” she greeted cheerfully. Her attitude was one of genuine niceness and instantly calmed Richie and Eddie down.

A name tag glittered against the girls’ brown apron in the lowlight of the diner.  _ Bev,  _ it read in a thin font. Bev looked the pair over as if she recognized them from someplace. Her eyes settled for a moment on the Derry Tigers patch on Richie’s bomber jacket, and her eyes widened ever so slightly before she regressed back into her customer-service self. 

She smiled again, showing the rows of her perfectly straight teeth. “So, do you know what you'd like to drink tonight?”

Eddie, unprepared for the question, looked at the menu and ordered the first thing he saw; Pepsi. 

“Right, and for you?” she said lightly, turning her attention to Richie, her eyes once again ghosting over the Derry Tigers emblem. 

“Water’s alright,” Richie said cooly. Eddie was vaguely aware he was doing his Confident-Everything-is-Cool Voice. 

“I’ll have those right out,” Bev said, turning back towards the kitchen. 

“Have you ever had a Pepsi in your entire life?” Richie teased when Bev left the room. 

“I panicked!” Eddie said, throwing his hands up defensively. 

“We leave home for four days and you're already a rebel!” Richie exclaimed reaching up to pinch Eddie’s cheek. Eddie rolled his eyes and pushed Richie’s hand away. 

Richie laughed and turned his attention to the menu placed in front of him. The menu items were surprisingly cheap, which was great because Richie only had about $13.50 in his jacket pockets. 

The waitress returned to the table with the drinks on a tray, she placed them down then pulled out a notepad, prepared to take the pairs orders. 

“You ready?” She asked. Her demeanor was awfully cheerful. despite the dark purple bags under her eyes, indicative of her restlessness. 

“Hey, ed’s don't panic this time, okay?” Richie teased, elbowing him in the side. Eddie gave him an annoyed look, then gestured for him to order first. 

Richie looked at him amused “I’ll have the club sandwich." 

"Sure! And you?" Bev asked Eddie.

"The same," he said, turning to Richie to glare.

"Of course- hey… I'm sorry if this seems like a strange question but are you from Maine?" She cut herself off to ask Richie. "I noticed the Jacket."

Richie was taken aback by the question and abruptness of her asking but took no time to reply, "born and raised" he gloated. 

Bev looked surprised, then broke into a smile, "Same here. Small world, I guess. What are you doing down here in Florida?" 

Eddie glanced over at Richie, untrusting if his answer, since the same question hadn't gone over too swimmingly with Stan. But something in Eddie told him that Richie was smarter than to spill his guts to a random girl they just met. 

"Just visiting Family, Staying in the Inn up the road." 

"Nice! I'll be out with your food soon." She said, turning once more towards the dim Kitchen. 

"She's cool" Richie spoke low-key, taking a drink of his water. 

"So weird how she's from Derry too. And with Stan here too. Maybe it's fate," Eddie Joked, taking a drink of soda and cringing. "That's horrible!" He exclaimed. 

"Knew it!" Richie said extracting his straw from his water and placing it Eddie's cup, then putting Eddie's straw in his water. "Why'd you think I got water, Always one step ahead of you Eddie spaghetti." 

"You're definitely not, but I'll give you that one." By now Eddie was glad to see that Richie was more like himself again. The anger, if not completely gone, had subsided enough to reveal Richie's usual persona once more. Eddie looked Richie over, trying desperately not to remember the night before and how much he had shared with Richie about why he was here now. Eddie worried maybe Richie was going to regret following him here. 

Richie was a Straight-A student, and while his parents weren't rich, they cared a lot about him and his future. The Toziers never talked about how much they had stashed away for Richie, or where it was exactly, but it was there, for when he was graduated and ready to start his college career. 

Eddie had always kind of Envied Richie for his home life. Maggie and Went were, at least from the point of view of an outsider, the ideal parents, and Richie always spoke highly of them too. To Eddie, they were like Sitcom parents, something to strive for, but not really realistic. 

Richie did run away to a nowhere town in Florida with him, so maybe, Eddie thought, his parents weren't so idyllic and Perfect? 

"Hey…" Richie cut through Eddie's thoughts, "don't be upset about the Stan thing I'll get over it- we'll talk it out." 

"Richie?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Did you steal money from your parents to run away?" Eddie's voice was low and cautious.

Richie's face stayed stoic, but Eddie could tell he was thinking carefully about how to answer the question. 

"Yes," Richie said simply as if it were a fact of life. Eddie raised his eyebrows.

"How much? Stan was right? You- how much. Richie if you're fucking around right now I'll be piss-" 

"I'm not fucking around," Richie said, grabbing Eddie's hand. Eddie stared at their hands for a moment before turning his attention back up to Richie. 

"What the fuck?!" Eddie whispered. "How much?" 

"Don't make a big deal out of this. It was necessary. You were in danger, Eddie. We both were, in fact. And I got us out of there. So does it matter how much it was?" Richie almost pleaded. 

"Yes, it matters," Eddie whispered, trying to even out his tone so he could get more information.

"My parents were saving up money for a college fund. It was a lot. Okay?" Richie said, averting his gaze. 

"No. Not ok." Eddie said placing his hand on Richie's face, forcing Richie to look at him. "How much."

"Doesn't make a difference either way. We're here now. Gone in Derry. I guess if we're stupid enough they'll find our asses and-" 

The Kitchen door opened, signaling the return of Bev. The pair sprung apart, the impromptu interrogation was over for now. 

Bev placed the food on the table, the plates clinked against each other. “Do you mind if I sit?” she asked. 

The pair shook their heads, indicating that it was okay for her to sit, she slid into the booth, opposite the pair. 

“I don't see many people my age around here,” She chuckled, tucking a lock of her red hair behind her ear. “Most are truckers, and odd-job workers on their way to or from a city project. I see a family or two occasionally, too but that’s rare.” 

“D’your folks run this place? Why’d you move here of all places from Derry.” Richie said, wiping his hands on a napkin. 

“Oh, no not my folks,” Bev responded, her pale eyes shifted darkly for a moment, before returning to her facade of pleasantry. “I moved here myself and started working here a few months later. It pays the bills.” 

Eddie looked to Richie, puzzled. 

_ Another Runaway? _ He thought glumly. 

Richie brushed it off, still focusing on Bev. 

“Why'd you move here?” Richie asked, probably sounding more brash and intrusive than he meant to.

Bev stayed silent for a beat, sniffling and wiping her nose briefly. 

“You don't have to answer him, Bev- sometimes he doesn't know when to stop talking,” Eddie said coldly, side eyeing Richie harshly. 

“Oh- it's okay.” Bev said awkwardly, “I guess I just… needed a change of scenery.” she said cryptically “How long have you been in Florida?” 

“Four days-ish?” Richie said, making a “meh” hand gesture. 

Bev laughed courteously at this, “Well, Welcome to Florida….” She trailed off, waiting for the pair to offer their names. 

“Richie Tozier,” Richie said, extending his hand for her to shake, she did. Eddie noticed he didn't add his usual cheesy line about how doing voices was his game.

“I’m Eddie,” Eddie said when Richie and Bev dropped their hands, extending his own to Bev. 

“Well nice to meet you two, I’ll be back, I’m gonna get your bill,” she said, standing from her place, then disappearing into the kitchen again, where light music was playing. 

Richie felt a chill run down his spine as Eddie made no attempt to fill the silence, and he didn't dare to either. 

_ Goddamnit Stan.  _ He thought ruefully, then felt guilty for doing so. None of this was Stanley’s fault, in truth and Richie knew that. 

Bev returned swiftly from the kitchen once more, a pink slip of paper in her hand. 

“You're a little understaffed?” Richie said, needing some kind of filler. 

“Yup, just me and my manager here most days. I have to do a lot of the labor here, but i don't mind it, it’s something to do.” She replied, slipping the paper onto the table. 

Richie smiled down at Bev’s neat script:

“ On the house, From one Mainer to two others! Thanks for making the night less boring. :-)  “

Richie folded the note up and put it in his jacket pocket, then pulled out his spare cash, and insisted Bev take it, as a tip. Reluctantly she took it after some convincing. 

Richie and Eddie stood from the Diner seating, once again thanking Bev, and laughing at the strange coincidence. 

It had now gotten past dark, a slight chill now in the air, although the humidity had stayed through the sun setting. Once again the uneasy sound of rubber soles crunching against gravel roadside fell into place. Richie tried scanning his brain for a joke, or riddle to lighten the strangely dark mood, but nothing came to him, so the gravel, and slight sound of trees and grass rustling returned. 

Richie had always been uncomfortable with long pauses and silences, an intrinsic part of himself- Like Stans’ eloquence or strange sense of humor, or Eddie’s hypochondria, or even Bills’ stutter. It had become a natural part of hanging around Richie to never hear a long pause, and most times, he knew exactly when a pause had gone on long enough and how to break it in his calculated yet brash manner. Tonight was different. Richie had  _ fucked up.  _ Or maybe  **fucked up!** was more applicable. 

Richie was pulled out of his thoughts, not by Eddie, a routine that had, at one point in time been commonplace, but rather a loud  _ CRASH _ sound off in the distance behind them. Richie noticed Eddie, who must have also been lost in his own head, jump in fright, then turn to Richie to laugh almost apologetically. Richie laughed too, at his own reaction to the noise, now realizing that it must have been thunder in the distance. 

Standing there, Richie realized he was right, as small rain droplets began falling from the sky, increasing with volume and speed by what felt like the second. 

“Oh shit,” Richie exclaimed, “The motel has to be at least a mile and a half from here!” 

Eddie looked concerned for a second “We’ll have to walk fast then, we shouldn't be out in the rain for long.”

Richie nodded, then began walking again. Eddie trailed behind him slightly at first, then caught up. The rain didn’t let up, instead, it raged on almost getting worse by the second, as though to spite the two’s efforts in staying dry. 

“Ugh,” Richie exclaimed quietly, the rain fogging up his glasses and blurring his vision. He took them off and attempted to clean them, but to no avail. Richie decided to discard his glasses from his face, knowing the rain will only worsen soon. He tucked them into his jeans pocket, trying to calculate if there was any way for them to be smashed on the trek back to the Inn or not. Richie looked to Eddie, who had his arms crossed over his chest, his shirt already damp. If you had asked Richie what his next gesture meant, he would have theorized that maybe, he was doing it to make up for his behavior that day, that this gesture was an apology for everything that happened in Stans’ office in the Inn, and for avoiding the questions in the diner, and so on. However, Richie would never admit to knowing that this act was one of love for Eddie. 

“Hey-” Richie said, still looking at Eddie’s crossed arms ``You should wear this- it's getting cold and you don't want to get sick,” Richie said, offering his black and orange Derry Tigers bomber jacket to Eddie. 

Eddie looked reluctant at first, but ultimately decided he was right and accepted the jacket being offered to him. 

“Thanks,” Eddie volunteered, an almost apologetic smile on his face as he slid his arms into the jacket while walking. 

“Hey, Eddie?” Richie blurted, desperate not to return to the silence and the crunching gravel, “I’m sorry I’ve been such a grade-a asshole today.” 

Eddie snorted at Richie’s sudden vulgarity, although sudden vulgarity had become his brand since childhood, then spoke up “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, asshole.” Eddie teased, elbowing Richie lightly, “Although i do forgive you.” 

Richie smiled, relieved that he was forgiven for now. 

The Inn was now in sight, and with the rain almost becoming a full-on shower by now, Richie felt relief. 

The Inn was an almost tacky blue and white beacon lit up against the dismally grey sky, and Richie actually felt himself speed up one it was in sight, controlling his pace as to not leave Eddie behind in his eagerness. 

“Wanna Race to the parking lot?” Eddie propositioned, smiling slightly. 

Richie knew he didn’t stand a chance against Eddie, but he smiled and nodded anyway. 

“Alright, stop here,” Eddie said, meeting Richie where he stood. “Ready… Set... “

“Go!” Both said in unison, taking off towards the Inn, Eddie already in the lead. By now both were laughing, and had started to the minute Eddie suggested a race. 

Richie caught up to Eddie briefly, watching as his hair, soaked with rainwater flew out wildly in all directions. The Inn was maybe 100 yards ahead of them now, and Richie began to lag behind again. 

“I’m winning!” Eddie called back, his voice echoing through the vacant street. 

Richie started to laugh again, really laughing, which slowed down his running. He paused, still laughing and watched Eddie continue running, unaware that Richie had stopped. 

Richie, for not the first (nor the last), came to the realization that he was deeply in love with Eddie. Usually, when this thought entered his mind, he felt like he had done something wrong-  _ thought  _ something wrong, but tonight this felt less terrifying. This filled Richie with a need to run. 

_ Maybe I’ll tell him maybe i’ll tell him maybe i'll tell him-  _ His mind droned on in rhythm with his feet hitting the tarmac as he gained on the Inn parking lot. Eddie was almost there, 30 feet ahead of Richie. He jumped into the Inn’s parking lot turning to watch Richie run. 

“I won!” Eddie said triumphantly, raising both hands in the air as Richie entered the parking lot. 

“I’m in love with you-” Richie said, trying to catch his breath. 


	11. Dark Times: First quarter IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- PLEASE READ ---  
> uhhh hello everyone... I have bad news! I don't know if I'll be continuing this fic as of now. For the last several months the It fandom has become excessively aggressive, especially towards people who identify as Bisexual, with biphobia actually becoming a prevailing topic in the fandom. As a Bisexual person who already struggles with identity and just Being on a daily basis (as I'm sure you can tell through the themes in my fics) This has made the It fandom not only a toxic environment due to normal fandom toxicity, but also due to the amount of internalized biphobia it makes me feel. I love the losers and how they have helped me for nearly the last four years, but this is not a fandom i wish to be a part of to date. This is NOT a forever goodbye to this fic. It IS, however, a see you soon, as I move onto new fandoms with less biphobia and a safer environment for me.  
> AS ALWAYS thank you so much for your continued support here. it really means the world to me that you all like reading my fic. I'm sorry to disappoint you all.

_ Wednesday, April 19th, 1994 12:30pm  _

_ He Thrusts His Fists Against The Posts…. _

“And then he totally- Hey! Earth to Bill…” Bradley snapped, breaking out of his rant on whatever topic he had been on about. Bradley wasn’t what Bill considered a _real_ friend, but he was someone his mother approved of and liked on account of the pair meeting at speech therapy camp, and these days Bill took anyone who hadn’t already decided he had a big red “MURDERER” sign on his back. 

Not that Bradley was particularly nice, caring, or unaffected by the Derry town gossip. He wasn’t, and Bill knew that, but he at least had the respect or  _ fear  _ to not bring it up in front of Bill directly. 

Bradley wasn’t like Stan or Richie or Eddie, Bill didn’t especially care for him the way he cared about the others, but sitting with him was better than sitting alone at lunch. That would’ve made Bill look even worse than he already did, and Greta Keene and Henry Bowers were quick to pick up and distribute any new developments in the Bill Denbrough Is A Stuttering Pansy Who Murdered All His Friends drama. 

“S-sorry, go o-oh-on.” Bill said, reassuring Bradley that he was listening. 

Bradley shook his head, picked up his lunch bag and headed towards the trash bins. Bill groaned, resting his head in his arms. 

_ Spring break is in three days, Bill, hold it together!  _ He told himself. Bill had, since the rest of his friends up and abandoned him last week, begun to talk to himself more and more- he guessed that the loneliness was getting to him, and staying silent seemed to be the best bet, with what felt like almost all of Derry’s eyes focused on him at all times. 

“You know, William,” His father's voice echoed in his head, “You keep causing trouble like this- and you’re going to just about run this family’s name through the mud.”

Family life hadn’t been great either, also on account of the rumor that Greta and Henry had been spreading. It’s hard to have a friendly family dinner when the oldest child had just gotten out of police questioning. Especially when that fact had to be hidden from Georgie, an 11-year-old who was starting to have a lot of questions about Bill. 

It had never really been a secret that Georgie was the favorite child. He was the youngest- and everyone felt it the same. As soon as Georgie was born, he had captivated Sharon and Zack Denbrough, and although it was never spoken aloud, something told Bill that Georgie was “Their chance to get it right”, and thus far, it was all going according to plan. 

For starters, George didn’t stutter like Bill did, and he always got along with other kids and was able to share his opinion in a way that Bill was not. Georgie was not Brash and forward, but warm and inclusive, even now at only eleven. Georgie was grounded in reality, and never went overboard with the creativity and daydreaming as Bill did with his Stories. 

Bill did not resent Georgie, nor hate him. Georgie’s charm wasn’t lost on Bill, and he too fell in love with being Georgie’s older brother from the minute he became it, but he did feel a sense of helplessness knowing that their parents felt as though Bill was their trial child. 

In the years before, the lunch bell was a dreadful noise, a noise that signified no more chats or jokes with his friends, but now, it was a reprieve from being in a place where so many people could see him. Where he knew so many people were aware he was there- and where he knew people would evidently talk about him. If Bill had known the term, he would say he developed a pretty severe case of social anxiety. This, of course, fueled Bill’s stutter, making a positive feedback loop, where the equilibrium is Bills’ social life. 

He grabbed his bag, heavy from his textbooks and started his way to class. Bill had decided to forfeit his locker, seeing as Bowers had set up Belch and Criss there nearly every day since Stan went missing to taunt him. He carried as much as his locker in his bag as he could, and hid in the bathrooms for 10 minutes after school before grabbing anything else he may need from there. 

Bill had thought about ditching school many times, but on top of not having anywhere else to go, due to his parents being home on and off throughout the day, he also was in his junior year, and he worked his ass off in Sophomore year in hopes of having only 5 classes a day-which he got. 

Both his mother and father graduated from prestigious schools, and it was expected that Bill would do the same, and in time georgie would too.

Bill entered his science class as discreetly as possible, as he usually did, but today the teacher caught him on his way in, “Oh! Bill, there you are! Your counselor has been asking for you.” his teacher Mr.Gedreau spoke cheerfully, handing him blue councilors’ pass. That’s another thing Bill noticed since the rumors started-teachers, parents, and other adults were either overly nice to him, or openly glared at him. The ‘Nice’ ones were ones who took pity on him, which he thought was worse than being straight-up hated. 

“Th-hank you.” He almost whispered, hoping none of his peers heard, but of course they did. 

“Th-th-thank you!” someone spat out, laughing cruelly. Bill frowned, turning towards the door once more. 

Bill had always thought that the Derry Highschool building was an atrocity. For the most part, all the walls were orange brick, with the big foam mats in the gym being the same color, and adorned with crudely painted tigers and “GO DERRY!” printed on them, although Bill suspected it was rare for Derry to score anything in any game. Furthermore, the building was almost one big square, with a small courtyard in the middle to break up the solid block of concrete and brick. The bathrooms, both women and Men’s’ had the stalls painted black on the inside, with orange doors, probably an attempt to stop graffiti, but it failed miserably and had to be painted over every other year or so. 

Bill used to think all these things made the school fun or quirky. But then he lost all his friends and became Derry’s #1 enemy. After that, he realized that maybe Derry High was like when they tried to cover up the sewage smell from the Kenduskeag River in the summer with new plants in the Barrens. It worked for maybe a day or two, but the realization that the Derry part of the Kenduskeag was just one big cesspool, always came back. 

He pushed the door to the Councilors office open, a brisk breeze hitting him in the face, it was a nice change from the muggy hallways. 

He handed the front desk worker the slip of paper and uncomfortably shifted on his feet. 

“She’ll be right with you, Mr.Denbrough.” the secretary smiled politely. Bill hated being called mr.denbrough because it made him feel like he was his dad, and it was too professional, but nevertheless he smiled, nodded and mumbled a thank you to the secretary. 

Someone he vaguely recognized as Betty something-or-other emerged from the office, holding it together stoically.

Bill nervously approached the councilors’ door, waiting to be invited in. 

“Bill Denbrough?” She asked from behind her desk.

“Yes,” Bill said, slightly proud of himself for not stuttering, despite how out-of-his-mind nervous he was. 

“Come in,” She said, beckoning him forward with an unreadable tone. 

Bill did as she said, and sat across from her. She smiled politely and pulled a manilla folder from a pile on her desk. 

“How are you, Bill?” She asked, “Do you go by Bill or William?” 

“Bill is fuh-fine.” He responded, placing his bag down on the floor next to him. 

“Right. So, Bill, the reason I called you here today is that your teachers have been worried about you recently. We do know there have been some cruel rumors being spread about you, and we’re sorry to hear that, but I call you in today to ask, are you alright Bill?” The counselor spoke with a voice that led Bill to believe she thought he would snap at any moment. 

“Well to be hon-honest, no. T-the rumors a-are hard to deal with…” Bill trailed off, twisting his hands anxiously, as she nodded. 

“I’m sure…” She said sympathetically. “You’re a writer, aren’t you Bill?” 

Bill smiled a little, feeling flattered and nodded. 

“I’ve read it, it’s very good. A lot of potentials.” She said smiling, rifling through the folder now, “My only concern is- your stories are very dark, and have a lot of…. Well- they’re just not school-appropriate.”

Bill’s smile faded. “R-right….?” He said, furrowing his brow “They’re h-ho-horo-” 

His stutter picked up, forcing the words to stay in the place between his mind and his mouth, “Scary Stories-” he said, finally allowing himself to dumb himself down to get the words out. 

“Bill, I’m going to need you to do something for me,” The counselor said, still in her Mock-sympathy voice, “I have a notebook for you to write down your feelings in, and maybe one day when you feel better, we can talk about what’s compelling you to write these…. Horror stories.” She said, smiling as she took Bills’ word. 

Bill accepted the notebook, as well as signing a “safety contract” before bidding the councilor goodbye, and thanking her politely. 

Bill made it a quarter of the way to his classroom before he broke. 

He darted into the (thankfully) empty bathroom and began crying. 

“Fuck.” He said quietly at first, then grew louder, until he feared someone would enter the bathroom to check on him “Fuck FUCK FUCK!” 

He opened his already overstuffed bag and slid the thin spiral-bound notebook into his bag between his two textbooks. 

“ _ fuck”  _ He whispered, trying to calm himself down. 

Bill stared himself down in the mirror, then whispered: “Fuck this.” 

Bill slung his bag over his shoulder, walking out of the bathroom, trying to look nonchalant. 

Bill knew where he was headed, one of the only safe places he had, The Barrens. 

Derry High may have been a shit school filled with shitty kids, but at least none of the doors had alarms, and today Bill was grateful for that. He found a secluded side exit, and snuck out, being careful to avoid security until he was off school grounds. 

From there, the barrens were at least a twenty-minute walk, but Bill was okay with that. His parents had taken his bike, Silver, from him a month and a half ago. At first, it had been a punishment for something minor, like not doing chores or having a bad grade, but it had grown into: “So we know where you are, so you’re safe”. Bill had begun to feel like a criminal in his own home, despite not committing any crimes. 

It was only 11:20 am, and he wasn’t supposed to be home until 2:30 pm, giving him a good amount of time alone in the Barrens to collect his thoughts. Maybe he’d even use that stupid journal. 

The Barrens was peaceful today, and the river had once again drained from the early spring storms that had over-filled it. Birds chirped softly, mingling with the sounds of the river. 

Bill felt more helpless than he had for a long time now, realizing all at once that not only had their childhoods, the ones they spent countless hours down here building forts and dams in these trees and the greenery of the Barrens, had been long gone, but now all his friends had gone too. He felt abandoned. 

At least with Stan, there had been notes to accompany his leaving. A hint at him not being angry with Bill. With Richie and Eddie, there was nothing. Maybe they didn’t even run away for all Bill knew. Bill felt like he didn’t  _ know  _ anything. 

Bill thought, not for the first time that maybe  _ he  _ should run away. This, for a moment, sparked something in his chest, maybe some kind of hope. But that died as fast as it came when Bill remembered that Silver was locked inside the garage, locked to the banister to the stairs with a bike lock that only his parents had the key to. 

The quietness of the Barrens was quickly interrupted by yelling and approaching footsteps. 

Mike Hanlon came running through the embankment, he slowed as he saw Bill, a look of warning on his face. 

“Hey, Bowers,” Mike said, pointing up towards the entrance of the Barrens. Bill got up at once, trying to stay out of Bowers’ way as much as possible. Bill didn’t know why Mike felt the need to protect him from Bowers’ reign of terror, but he appreciated it. 

Bill got up and began to lead Mike as inconspicuously as possible through the barrens, as to not draw attention to themselves. Henry Bowers seemed to always be on Everyone’s ass, all the time, but more than anyone he was on Mike Hanlons. Mike had gone to the Neibolt street church school for a good chunk of his school years, and Bill had only really seen him in passing before high school when he was forced to transfer into Derry High when Neibolt St. school decided to shut down its’ highschool in favor of the general population highschool. Mike has undoubtedly been nervous to transfer into Derry high because it wasn’t known as the most welcoming place-or even  _ a  _ welcoming place, but really the only person who made Mike’s arrival a big deal was Henry Bowers. 

Henry claimed heavily, that Will Hanlon had once threatened his own father, Oscar Bowers with a gun, but those claims seemed to be false, with no backing, 

The pair reached the main road now, finally breaking from the thick greenery of the ironically named Barrens. Bowers and his gang were nowhere in sight, nor earshot, so Bill assumed they were let off the hook. 

“Thanks for the heads-up, Mike,” Bill said smiling. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mike said, wiping sweat from his forehead, “They were out for blood today, if not me it would’ve been anyone else they could get their hands on.” 

Bill nodded, knowing this to be a fact. The Bowers gang was a band of probable psychopaths, and Bill seriously wondered how the police weren’t on their asses all the time, but with Oscar Bowers being chief of police (and also a clinical basket case), it wasn’t really a wonder. Sometimes Bill thought that maybe the residents of Derry were so jaded to violence that it was a normal thing for them. This idea had actually become a large theme in his own writing. Horrible things happening all around, as the ones who are meant to protect stood Idilely. 

“So, what’re you doing out of school, Mike.” Bill returned to Mike, making Smalltalk. 

“Same as you, math didn’t seem worth it today,” Mike responded, almost aloofly. 

Bill smiled a little, nodding. “You going back after class or are you cutting the rest of the day?” 

Mike shrugged as though he was up for suggestions, “either way.”

“I was thinking of heading to the Library, wanna join?” Mike’s eyes lit up at this suggestion, and this filled Bill with relief, it had felt like forever since he had done something with anyone. 

Bill had always loved the Derry library, even despite his own extensive home book collection. He felt like it was a second home with its giant dark wood shelves and high ceilings. Even now, when he felt abysmal, he felt comfortable in the cool, silent building. It was going to be near 1:30 now, and Bill was meant to be picking Georgie up at Derry Middle in thirty minutes or so. Bill hadn’t particularly come to check out a book (and besides that, he had left his library card on his dresser at home) but he couldn’t resist the allure of looking at old books. 

Bill sighed and checked his watch, it was almost 2:20, only ten more minutes until he had to make the trek to Derry elementary school. 

Mike was standing next to him now, holding a thick “History of Derry book”. Bill thought it was a strange choice in book, considering Bill didn’t really find the history of Derry to be that interesting, it started as a beaver trapping town, and as far as Bill was concerned it had mostly stayed that way. 

Mike seemed to notice Bill eyeing the book and began “My father thinks this town is cursed, or something like that. Derry has always had too many accidents to ignore. 

This struck a chord with Bill as if Mike's words had connected dots to something bigger, and unspoken about Derry that he had already, unconsciously known since birth. 

“Bill, i dint think you’re what the people in this town think you are.” The words, although spoken tenderly spun around feverishly inside Bills’ mind, stinging his chest bitterly. 

_ Maybe i should go missing.  _ Bill thought bitterly. 

Bill shrugged apathetically, “I Have to go pick up Georgie, Mike, see you around.” 

Mike stood up straighter, and bid Bill goodbye “See you around, let's keep in touch? Yeah?” He asked as Bill walked away. 

“Ayuh, sure thing Mikey,” Bill said, trying to hide his growing apathy. It wasn’t mike’s fault. It wasn’t anyone's fault, except maybe the town Itself. 


End file.
